


What Do A Lion And A Wolf Share?

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Half-Blood Hermione Granger, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Magical Adoption, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is called back from Australia by the Ministry for urgent news. Just when she feels like her blood doesn't define her in the wizarding world, Hermione is thrust into a new world based on blood status. Working with unlikely allies, can she navigate new societal challenges, better the wizarding world, make her friends all get along, and fix her parents? Dramione, enemies to lovers slow burn.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott
Comments: 248
Kudos: 343





	1. The Red Menace Returns

Hermione Granger tapped her foot on the dark marble of the Office of Familial Magical Matters lobby, her frustration and curiosity both growing in measured lengths as each minute went on. Infamous for her punctuality, she was not accustomed to being kept waiting by her Ministry colleagues. But she also wasn’t pulled from her station in Sydney by the Minister of Magic, her friend and boss Kingsley Shacklebolt, to report for urgent matters with no context either. 

Typically, she knew weeks in advance when she’d need to return for a meeting in London and she’d always known the purpose of the meetings; usually they’d be at her request to push a new effort in front of the Wizgamont. But today was different and Hermione did not like going into any situation without knowing at least something about it. 

She’d been in Australia for the past two years, leaving the UK and her friends behind following the Battle of Hogwarts to find her parents and fix their memories. After a year on the run, she wanted nothing more than to hug them and tell them how much she loved them. After a few days of trying to reverse the charm herself, she enlisted help. When the healers at Prince Hill Hospital informed her that her memory charm was interacting with an unknown older spell and that the reversal process would take time, Hermione passed on her repeat year at Hogwarts, taking her N.E.W.T.s independently by her parents’ hospital beds. Shaklebolt offered her a position at the Ministry that allowed her to work remotely for weeks at a time. For the past two years, her life consisted of work, doctor's visits, and independent research, with sporadic visits to London for work. Although they saw each other when she returned for work and owled regularly, Hermione desperately missed her friends. 

Since she received the summons last night, she’d wondered what business she could possibly have within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, let alone this family-focused office. The possibilities she’d constructed so far ranged from something terrible having happened to Harry to an unwelcome job offer moving her from her position within the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Just as she started to construct new, horrible possibilities, the door to the main office opened and a short brunette woman in black robes waved Hermione in. 

“Miss Granger, thank you for coming in today. Lyria Gardner, Office Head. I understand you’ve had a long journey,” the plump Ministry official greeted her, ushering Hermione into her small office. Hermione eyed the nearly empty bookshelf next to the door and the decorative plates on the wall with nearly equal discomfort. 

“Yes,” Hermione said shortly as she sat in the chair across the woman’s desk. Usually she’d try to be more polite, but given the circumstances, she was eager to find out why she was here. 

“Well, let’s get right to it,” said the official, reading Hermione’s tone. She laid a small parcel, white and crumpled, in front of Hermione. “Typically, this is given to the witch or wizard it pertains to on their seventeenth birthday. However, on your seventeenth birthday, the Ministry had already been infiltrated by You-Know-Who’s supporters -”

“Voldemort,” Hermione interrupted, her irritation growing with the woman. “It’s been two years. Please, stop giving a dead man power by not using his name.”

“Quite right. Anyway, these packages are impervious from destruction and can only be unsealed by the witch or wizard in question,” the official began to speak more rapidly as she launched into her explanation, clearly anxious. “No one knows the contents before the parcels are opened, except for the ministry official who created the folder and the witches and wizards who went through the process of having it made. Several of them went missing during, em, Voldemort’s rise to power. My department suspected that those taken were connected to Death Eaters in some way, but they would have no way of knowing the contents of the packages. We only uncovered this package when the Aurors raided the Lestranges’ hidden cottage outside Edinburgh last month. Full of other Dark artifacts, of course, but these were protected by wards that were apparently quite difficult to break. I believe your friends Harry Potter and Ron-”

“Sorry, but what exactly is the package? You’ve left that bit out,” Hermione interjected again, feeling both annoyed by the woman’s babbling and a bit guilty about her own bluntness. 

“I think it would be better for you to just open it yourself, Miss Granger,” the Office Head slid the bundle closer to her from across the desk. Hermionine chewed her lip nervously as she picked up the package, flipping it over to examine it. She tentatively pulled the twine, the knot holding the paper together undoing quickly. Out of the parcel erupted the form of a silver wolf, which evaded into mist with a loud howl. Hermione gasped in surprise, dropping the contents that were encased within. 

“Merlin was - was that meant to happen?” Hermione exclaimed, shocked that such a graceful piece of magic had escaped from a forgotten, dingy exterior.

“Typically there is a familial symbol when the parcel opens, but I’ve never seen one so pronounced,” Lyria Gardner, Office Head, nodded and made no move to help Hermione with the mess. 

Familial magic was an area Hermione was unusually under informed in. She vowed to visit the library and research it after she figured out what exactly she was getting into before she picked up the pieces of parchment strewn across the desk and began reading. She read the pages in their entirety three times before lifting her gaze back to Lyria Gardner, Office Head. “Is there a way to confirm this?” Hermione asked the official, brown eyebrows knit and golden eyes wide. “This is just a sheet of paper, there is no proof,” her voice cracked, the panic in her chest ringing clear in her words. The official took the pages and read themself, shaking her head and muttering to herself all the while. 

“Yes, there is a spell to confirm all this. Before we get to that, do you have any questions?”

Hermione snorted at the question. Yes, she had several thousand questions, her thoughts swirling around her like a rough surf. She focused on a single one, a life raft in the chaos overtaking her: “How common is an adoption like this in the wizarding world Ms. Gardner?” 

“Any adoptions in the wizarding world are typically closed and kept secret until the 17th birthday of the child,” the witch started, avoiding Hermione’s eyes. 

“We both know that is not what I am asking.” 

“It is extremely uncommon for a magical child to be placed with muggles, but it has happened. However, we’ve never seen a case in which the child was placed with muggles they were not related to in some capacity. That is why it took us a full month to contact you - we were researching your parents. Or, your adoptive parents, to determine if they were squibs. We couldn’t find any evidence, so we -”

“Stop. Please. I’d like to do the test as soon as possible.”

“Very well. Stay here a moment, I will see if I can set it up for today,” the woman shuffled out of the office. Alone again, Hermione shifted in her seat and felt tears well up. Adoptive parents. Her parents weren’t her biological parents. Her whole life they’d lied to her. They adopted a witch and probably had no idea at all. It clicked in Hermione’s mind - the mystery charm hindering their memory progress had to tie back to this. Whatever was keeping her from getting her parents back was likely done in connection with this adoption. Which posed even more questions, like were they even aware she was a witch? Were they willing to adopt her or were they forced? Did they even love her? Hermione suddenly felt the weight of a bowling ball on her chest and struggled to catch her breath. She knew she was spiraling into a panic attack and starting counting to regain control again. “1...2….3,” she muttered to herself. While the frequency of her panic attacks had faded since they first appeared right after the war, she was no stranger to this feeling. “103...104….105…”

“675...676...677” Just as she started breathing normally again, the Ministry official opened the door and gestured for someone to come in behind her. Hermione strained her neck to see who it was. A nervous looking brunette wizard appeared, shooting Hermione a small smile. 

“Lord Nott, welcome. Thank you for coming in so quickly,” the Department Head greeted him. A flash of recognition at the name passed through Hermione as she stood to greet him, recalling him as an awkward, lanky classmate she’d rarely seen happy. The thin man loomed in the doorway, even taller than Hermione remembered him. She wondered if he had been briefed on the situation. 

“Hermione Granger,” she stuck out her hand, struggling to force her face from surprised to friendly. The slender man chuckled before returning the handshake.

“If there is anyone in this building who doesn’t need an introduction, it would be you, Miss Granger. I’m Theo Nott. We were in the same year at Hogwarts, I’m not sure if you remember.”

“Of course, you were especially talented in Potions. We took the N.E.W.T. level course together sixth year,” Hermione found it easier to smile now, her anxiety mirrored in this wizard meant that she wasn’t alone. 

“That’s right,” he confirmed before shifting awkwardly. “So shall we…” he trailed off, looking to the official to guide them through the next steps. 

“Right. I’ll need a drop of blood from you both. I will perform the spell and we will go from there.” 

As the official pricked Theo’s finger, Hermione studied him. She didn’t know much about him. He was her year, Slytherin, and a bit of a loner. She remembered that he often sat with Draco Malfoy in class, but didn’t take part in much of the bullying. She also recalled that his father was a Death Eater, one that had tried to kill her and her friends at the Department of Mysteries a few years ago. Outside of that, this boy she’d gone to school with for 6 years was a stranger. 

She barely felt the prick, but watched her red blood pool with a fresh focus. Two years ago, her blood defined her in the wizarding world. It made her less than in the eyes of at least Theo’s father, if not Theo himself. When she’d left for Australia, she thought she’d never have to concern herself with her blood outside of a medical emergency. But here it was, insistent that it define her again. 

Hermione held her breath as the witch did the spell. Did Theo want a sibling? How would he deal with a classmate he barely knew thrust into his life, a threat to his inheritance? A muggleborn - she stopped herself. It was possible she wasn’t even that anymore. She wasn’t sure what to hope for. 

“Half siblings, related through the Nott line,” the witch’s words echoed through Hermione’s mind, which was blank for the first time in her life.


	2. To Be Or Nott To Be

Theo Nott had enclosed Hermione within one of the tightest hugs she’d ever received 47 seconds ago. His face buried in her curls and his arms squeezing her in random intervals, he showed no signs of letting her go. Hermione finally moved to hug him back, unsure and light at first, then deeper and more fierce as the hug reached a full minute. It was not nearly as good as a Ron bear hug, but it was the closest she’d had in over six months. It was the only hug she’d had in over six months, now that she thought about it. 

“You aren’t upset?” Hermione quizzed, breaking from their hug and searching his face. 

“No, not at all. Are you upset?” Theo smiled back at her, his warm brown eyes dancing with excitement. 

Hermione took stock for a moment, feeling an uncharacteristic lack of anything. “I’m bewildered more than anything,” she realized as she shared it. 

“It’s a shock for me too. Shall we discuss over tea?” Theo glanced at the Ministry official, who was unabashedly watching their interaction with keen interest. 

“Yes,” Hermione answered quickly. “But someplace Muggle, so we can speak in private.” The intrusive woman’s face fell upon hearing their plan to leave. 

“The challenges of celebrity. Mine, of course. Can’t be seen out with a nobody like you,” Theo gave her a cheeky smile, so different from the silent boy she remembered. He opened the door for her and thanked the official, assuring her they’d return eventually to sort out the forms the woman was holding up. 

“I’m glad someone of your fame can make time for me,” she teased back as they walked out the gray corridors of the Ministry, surprised that the joking came so easily. As a kid she’d struggled when interacting with her peers and trained herself to be cautious and reserved around strangers. But Hermione felt like watching Theo’s range of emotions this morning was like holding up a mirror to her own. Recognizing he too woke up this morning an only child, she allowed her social walls to crumble a bit for the man to her right. 

Taking her first step outside the Ministry and into muggle London, Hermione breathed in the familiar London air. While she enjoyed the warm weather in Sydney, she missed the bustling gray city she grew up in. The June sun warmed the pair as they stepped in time, Theo stripping off his black robes as they got warmer to reveal a button down shirt and slacks. Hermione felt rather underdressed as she removed her robes too, sporting muggle jeans and a blue blouse. If Theo noticed the discrepancy, he made no mention of it. 

“So Miss Granger,” Hermione shook her head at the title and opened her mouth to correct him. Theo held up his hands. “Sorry, Hermione. Blame the etiquette classes. What do you do at the Ministry?”

“Well, Theo,” Hermione emphasized before continuing, “I work in the Office of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I spend most of my team doing research and writing proposals focused on better treatment for magical beings.”

“A Nott as a do-gooder? Maybe we need to get the test redone,” Theo started to turn around before Hermione pulled him back, the two chuckling as she did. “From what I remember about you in school, that makes sense. I’m just surprised you aren’t running the department.”

“I think under normal circumstances climbing the corporate ladder as quickly as possible is what I would’ve worked for. But I’ve been away, living in Australia for the past few years - just got in this morning actually.”

“Australia? What were you doing down under?” Theo questioned in a poor Australian accent that tipped the corners of her mouth. 

“Staying with family.” As much as she liked Theo so far, she didn’t want to talk about her parents yet. She didn’t even want to think about them right now. She was too focused on finding answers in the man next to her. “But I’d like to get to the bottom of all this. And get to know you better. So I’m planning to stay.”

“I’d like that,” Theo bounced a bit next to her, though she wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement. 

“What do you do?” Hermione was keen on gathering any information on Theo to add to her limited supply. 

“I’m rich, darling,” Theo trumpeted with a sly grin. “Joking, kind of,” he assured her when he noticed her quirked eyebrow. “I am in the process of curse-breaking and clearing out the Dark artifacts at Nott Manor. I’m a contractor of sorts for the Ministry on the curse-breaking side of it. After I finish up with the manor, I was thinking about seeking out a more permanent position.”

“Have you met Bill Weasley? He is the curse-breaker for Gringotts.” Theo shook his head. “I’ll introduce you. I’ve always been fascinated by the job. It is like a professional puzzle solver.”

“That is why I like it, I think. I’m always tinkering and this way I’m actually doing something productive for society. I want all the Dark artifacts out and locked up,” he ended his sentence firmly, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Well, perhaps the desire to make the world a better place is a shared sibling trait,” offered Hermione with a shy smile. Theo beamed back at her like a child, holding open the door to the hole-in-the-wall tea shop that Hermione guided them to. In the few minutes it took them to place their orders and find a table, uncertainty had seeped back into their company, suffocating their earlier banter and leaving only uncomfortable quiet. The silence in the nearly empty shop heightened the discomfort between them. Hermione began chewing her lip and looking at the pile of papers the Ministry official gave her while Theo, staring at Hermione, tapped his fingers on the table.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know where to begin past the usual pleasantries,” Theo dropped his eyes to the table and grabbed his tapping hand with his free one to silence the nervous habit. “How do you start with a sister you’ve never known?”

“I understand completely,” Hermione nodded and then thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to unweave the mystery in front of them. “You know, I had a terrible time remembering your name when we were younger. You didn’t speak up in any of our classes and I didn’t see you outside of class either, so for a few years I referred to you mentally as ‘the skinny boy.’”

“The skinny boy! My, what a title,” Theo puffed out his chest with mock pride. 

“Better than Golden Girl or Gryffindor Princess or any of my horrid nicknames,” Hermione rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose up. 

“You may be right,” Theo chuckled. “But you’d be surprised at the horrible jokes school children can make about the name Nott.” The two of them grinned at each other, Hogwarts nostalgia taking them both in.

“I didn’t remember your name until - well it wasn’t until that night at the Department of Mysteries when your father…” Hermione struggled for her next words, worried about offending Theo while desperate to broach the subject that brought them together. 

“Our father, you mean,” Theo interjected bitterly, the humor fleeing from him quickly. “Charming man, casually trying to kill children was well within his repertoire. I didn’t know you were there that night. It makes sense you would be given your war efforts.”

“Will you tell me about him?” Hermione leaned forward, both eager to understand more about her birth father and hesitant to hear about the Death Eater. Theo grimaced, but gave her a sharp nod. 

“There’s not much to say. He was not a kind man. I don’t have many stories about him as I was mostly cared for by the House Elves after he killed my mother.” Theo paused as he watched different emotions pass over her face, disgust, anger, hurt, interest, pity. He looked at though he’d seen it all, felt it all. “I have a handful of happy memories when I was a child, but they are largely overshadowed by all the bad he did.” 

When he didn’t continue, Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry Theo, I had no idea.” She felt the black ooze of guilt spreading throughout her body, pulling her down. He grew up alone, with an occasionally present murderer, while she had two loving parents.

“It’s ok, Hermione. How would you have known? Anyway, he has been gone for a long time now,” Theo squeezed her hand back with a plaintive smile. “And he did leave behind a wonderful gift for me,” he brightened immediately. “You, Hermione. I love my friends, but I’ve always wanted a real sibling,” he explained when she looked expectantly at him.

“Me too. I love my parents, but when I was little I often wished I had someone to play with.”

“Will you tell me about growing up in the muggle world?” Theo stuck his chin into the jut of his left hand, leaning towards her with earnestness. 

What do you tell a wizard sheltered from the muggle world and told it is beneath him? She recounted opening stockings while wearing Christmas crackers, and her Dad singing Billy Joel while cooking pancakes on Saturdays, and her favorite summer holiday in muggle Paris, and the day she found out she was a witch. 

“I can’t believe you got a personal house call from McGonagall,” Theo reflected in dismay after nearly an hour of Hermione reminiscing and Theo intervening with several questions about dentistry and muggle technology. 

“They do that for all muggleborn students. I was just thankful it was Minerva. She did a good job of getting my parents to embrace the idea of sending me away.” 

“Huh,” Theo pursed his lips. “I never thought about it. No muggleborns in Slytherin, so I just never heard about the process before. But it makes sense. How else would you convince parents to send children into a new world? Brave of them.”

“Yeah, they are both brave,” Hermione quietly agreed, feeling tears start to prick at her eyes.

“Oh, Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Theo scooted his chair next to her and put an arm around her shoulder to soothe her. “I’ve been alone for a few years, I didn’t even think about what this adoption news meant for your parents.”

“No, it’s not that. I hadn’t even thought of that yet. Oh Circe, I didn’t even think about how they’d handle the news.”

“What is it then?”

Hermione looked at the man next to her for a moment, weighing if she should share this secret with him. Theo looked back at her with concern written on his face, his head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. She sighed and decided to share the burden with her brother. She explained everything, from her memory charm before the war, to finding them, to the difficulties she’d had reversing it. “The healers said there was an unknown underlying memory spell impacting them. Without knowing what it is, we can’t undo either charm without the potential for permanent brain damage,” she took a deep breath as she finished, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders as each word left her. Theo embraced her again, but when they broke apart his features were set in determination. 

“Since it was likely done by our father, we can work together to figure out what he did. We can start with his journals in the manor’s library.”

“You’d help me?” 

“Hermione, we are family. If I can do anything to help you get the parents who gave you that childhood back, I will in an instant.”

With that confession, Hermione began to cry into his shoulder, full blown sobs this time. Theo rubbed her back while giving the other patrons around them apologetic looks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she breathed out when she regained a bit of her composure. “I’ve been working on this mostly alone for two years and this is just the closest I’ve been to cracking this puzzle and getting them back,” she sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you, Theo. I’m so thankful this is how you reacted to all this. I don’t know where we go from here, but I’m glad we are going together.”

Theo smiled understandingly, his warm eyes empathetic and reassuring. He smacked his hand down on the table suddenly, prompting Hermione to jump. “I know what I’d like to do next. And what should be done in this situation. But what do you want to do?”

“I’d like to learn more about what should be done, I suppose,” Hermione conceded, curious to hear what Theo would propose. 

“Right, well, there are several steps we could take. First, as the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House Nott, I’d formally induct you into family magic with a private ceremony. Then we’d handle the legal papers with the ministry to have you recognized as a Nott. I’d also ask you to move into Nott Manor with me, should you want, and we’d set up meetings with Gringotts for your birthright,” Theo ticked each item off on his fingers. 

“Theo, I wouldn’t dream of stealing your money,” Hermione scoffed at the suggestion, immediately uncomfortable with the idea. 

“It is not stealing. You are a Nott. The firstborn, technically,” Theo insisted. “Also, we are quite rich, so it wouldn’t affect me as much as I am sure you are assuming.”

“Still, I couldn’t.”

“Hermione, you’ve said you want to change the wizarding world for the better. You’ve spent the years creating programs for the betterment of magical creatures. Becoming a Nott will allow you to accomplish your goals. You’ll gain the wealth and connections you need to do whatever your bleeding heart desires.”

Hermione chewed at her lip, contemplating Theo’s words. If they could solve her parents’ afflictions, she’d be able to move home and work towards the career she’d always wanted. Having connections could help her pass new legislation that could actually have an impact. Still she shook her head, refusing Theo’s offer. 

“I have plenty of time to convince you on the inheritance aspect, sister of mine. What about moving in? Do you have a place to stay yet?”

“Let’s go have a look at the library in the manor,” Hermione stood quickly, dragging Theo up to his feet with her. “Brother,” she added with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was...a lot of dialogue. Thanks for sticking around and reading it. Hopefully you liked it!


	3. An Inquisition Over Brunch

Draco Malfoy laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as still, pale, and unblinking as a cadaver. While he was typically an early riser, today he allowed the sun to fill his room, his only response pulling the green comforter higher. Draco was not one to avoid a problem. Usually he would analyze it, strategize around it, and attack it carefully with several backup options. This was a learned skill, as his base nature was reactive and impulsive, a blond volcano of anger constantly on the verge of eruption. If his father did one positive thing for Draco, it was to ensure he understood the benefit of patience. Today’s opponents, however, were far more resolute in their mission than Draco was willing to endure. 

The crack of apparition echoed in his bare room. “Good morning Tippy,” he greeted the house elf without moving. 

“Good morning Lord Malfoy. The Mistress is being requesting you at breakfast.” He internally cursed the cheer in the elf’s voice. “Does the Cottage need any cleaning this morning?”

“Please tell her that I’ll be over to the manor shortly, Tippy. Thank you for asking, but I think yesterday’s deep clean did the trick. Perhaps Mother needs help with the linens?” Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the overindulgent elf, who still thought of him as the little boy she helped raise. His mother’s incessant need to fret over him wore his patience thin, but having his house elf mirror the sentiments in other areas of his life was driving him barmy. But he loved them both, in their own ways, and tolerated their excessive affection. 

“Yes, Lord Malfoy.” The second crack signaled he was alone again. He sighed and swung his feet onto the cold wooden floor, counting to three to force himself up. It was time to leave the safety of his home and face his mother for their daily standoff. Following his trial and acquittal, Draco had moved to the Acton-Malfoy Cottage, a small house usually reserved for the Malfoy dowager. His mother was devastated he moved out, giving extra protest since he’d taken on the mantle of Lord Malfoy when his father was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban. He, however, couldn’t stand to be in the Manor after hosting the world’s worst houseguest and imprisoning his classmates in his basement. His mother did not seem to share his sentiments, hosting parties and fundraisers for charitable causes as soon as her light sentence, a three month magic ban courtesy of Saint Potter’s testimony, was lifted. 

When he apperated into the dining room, he expected his mother to bombard him with questions, most of which he would ignore, as was their usual morning routine. In fact, he expected her nagging and mothering to reach an all time high given today’s lunch plans. 

“Draco, my love, come look at this letter from your father,” was Narcissa’s only greeting. The poised ice blonde didn’t move from her seat to hug Draco, or even look up from the parchment in her hands. Draco sighed, never eager to read anything from his father, but compelled his feet to move down to the head of the long table. His mother handed him the parchment, which he read three times, the first two in shock and the third wishing more information would spring from the page. 

“Theo didn’t tell me anything,” Draco’s voice was flat and emotionless, but his throat grew tight with hurt. His best friend since birth, the man he considered a brother, didn’t trust him enough to alert him to this massive life changing event. Draco had no doubt in his mind that the subject of said massive life changing event was the reason.; she was likely dripping poison into Theo’s ear about Draco at this moment. He couldn’t blame her entirely for that; Draco was aware of what a prat he was as a child. Fighting as a pawn in someone else’s war quickly stamped out his outspoken pretension, replacing it with a quiet resourcefulness. Regardless, Draco was angry that out of the world of witches, his best friend’s newfound sister was none other than the know-it-all Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. Perhaps this was some sort of karmic retribution for being a git to her for their six years of school together. 

“It happened two days ago, my sweet boy. I’m sure he will tell you soon.”

“I suppose,” he muttered, taking his seat at the table. As he ate his eggs silently, his mind was focused on creating and discarding options for approaching Theo with the news that he knew. He had to find a way to help protect Theo while also safeguarding their friendship against whatever trouble Hermione Granger was sure to be brewing. Narcissa watched him across the table, quietly observing the familiar flint in his grey eyes. 

“Hermione Granger is now a Nott,” his mother’s statement broke through his thoughts, still studying him. He schooled his features into a mask of indifference while he internally begged she would drop the subject. “A famous and brilliant war heroine who holds a position in the Ministry and is friends with Harry Potter could be an advantageous alliance for our family Dra-”

“No, Mother, don’t allow your mind to wander there,” he scolded her harshly, irritated both that his mother brought up her beloved Saint Potter and that she was, yet again, working on Draco’s future without his input or interest at heart. “She is still Hermione Granger, regardless of her parentage.” And I am still Draco Malfoy, he added silently, remembering the unrestrained hatred that defined their relationship in school. 

“With a little guidance Hermione Granger could be an acceptable Lady Nott-Malfoy,” she pushed again, firmer this time, as she smoothed her emerald robes with an air of authority. 

“Mother, that is not an option,” Draco groaned. “Nor will it ever be. I beg you, stop this.”

“Draco, you’ve dismissed every match. At your age, I was already married and trying for an heir. Doing my duty,” Narcissa insisted, the pleasantness of her tone wearing thin. “If I recall correctly, you spoke of her all the time when you were in school. Much more than any girl I’ve tried to arrange a formal courting agreement with.”

“I simply talked about how annoyed I was that she beat my marks in nearly all my classes, which Father made clear was unacceptable. Several times. No scheming regarding Granger.”

“Perhaps I could just owl her and invite her for tea. Not for you, but to strengthen our partnership with the Notts and forge a new ally with Miss Granger. I’m sure even her friendship could play a pivotal role in our family regaining some of our political footing.” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. Rather than discuss with his mother how he doubted Granger would want to take tea in the house she was tortured in, he took a deep breath and smiled softly at her. “I’m seeing Theo after the luncheon. Could you please hold off until tomorrow? We have no idea if he wants to claim her as a relative nor if she is interested in being a Nott.”

“Very well,” Narcissa nodded in agreement. “What will you wear for our lunch today?”

“Are you insistent that I join you for this? I’d rather not attend another Greengrass luncheon,” Draco suppressed a shudder, reflecting on the campaign Lady Greengrass mounted to pair him with her younger daughter. At multiple events this season, Astoria Greengrass had been presented to him as no more than a broodmare by her own mother, desperate to marry off her teenage daughter to a wealthier family as quickly as possible. Astoria had clearly been coached and worked hard at the last luncheon, from hanging off his every word to laughing at nearly every sentence he uttered to finding ways for her fingers to flint across any exposed skin. While Narcissa hadn’t been receptive to the witch’s attempts for a betrothal while the children were at Hogwarts, she was now beginning to grow anxious for her only son. In turn, she’d been forcing the conversation towards Astoria’s positive qualities each morning for the past three weeks. 

“Lady Greengrass is rather aggressive in her pursuits for her daughters,” Draco felt gracious in how he decided to address the harpy's efforts. Narcissa’s glacial glare answered his question. “Right, I’ll meet you by the floo at quarter till noon. I’d planned on the black robes, but can switch if that would clash with your outfit,” he folded, standing and giving her a kiss on the cheek. As he walked away, flashes of a bushy haired, angry Gryffindor filled his mind and wouldn’t shake loose. Suddenly, the dreaded lunch with the desperate hag and his would-be teen bride didn’t sound nearly as bad as dealing with a certain lioness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the party Draco!


	4. Afternoon (Un)Delight

Two days after finding out she had a brother, Hermione looked across the breakfast table at him, trying to take in all the things that had changed about her life in such a short period of time. Shortly after his eager tour of the mansion, complete with warnings about most of the rooms and an uncomfortable encounter with a portrait of Theo’s mother, Theo and Hermione started pouring over their father’s journals for clues to her parents’ aliment and any mention of a woman who could be Hermione’s biological mother. They’d spent yesterday doing much of the same, but this time taking breaks only to eat or swap stories from their past. After Hermione told Theo about Ron and Harry saving her from the troll during their first year at Hogwarts, she realized she hadn’t let any of her friends know she was in town.

“Theo, before we file anything official with the Ministry, I think we should tell our friends. I haven’t even told Harry and Ron I’m back.”

“I keep in touch with several people, but I’m only close to two people from school. They’re probably the only people I’d want to tell before they find out from someone else. Why don’t we start tomorrow?” The pair agreed, Theo inviting his friends over for the following afternoon, and Hermione owling Ron, Harry, and Ginny to see if they’d be free for lunch during the week, before returning to the immaculately kept diaries. 

Before breakfast this morning they’d conducted the familial magic ritual, Theo pricking both their fingers over a small gold bowl and reciting a short incantation over their mixed blood. After the form of a wolf shot out of the bowl, Theo embraced Hermione. “Hello, Hermione Nott Granger. I never thought I’d want another Nott in my life, but I’m thrilled you’re family.” Hermione hugged him back, fighting the tears forming in her eyes as she thought of her own parents. He led her into the kitchen, where he started making pancakes and begged her to sing something from Billy Joel, just like she mentioned her dad did, so she would feel more at home. 

“So, why the mystery? I was worried what surprise I’d show up to from your note,” Blaise joked to Theo hours later, elbowing Draco in the ribs. Draco grunted in agreement, but made no comment, instead looking around the empty hallway as they trailed behind Theo from the floo.

“Well chaps, I received the strangest news this week,” Theo started, opening the door to the formal sitting room and ushering them in. Blaise and Draco stopped upon seeing Hermione standing in the middle of the room, Blaise rapidly looking back and forth between Theo and Hermione. Blaise Zabini looked the same as she remembered, his cropped black hair the only different feature. The muscular wizard still walked with the same confidence she remembered from school. 

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, looked markedly different from their last encounter. An image of a sullen, thin boy with black circles staining his pale skin limping away from the Battle of Hogwarts flashed across her mind. While his stark platinum hair and steel eyes were familiar, Malfoy had grown taller and filled out. Still slender, he carried himself more like he had before their sixth year, with an aristocratic haughtiness that annoyed Hermione. “Nothing but a little ferret with entitlement in each twitch,” her own voice bubbled up from the back of her mind, forcing Hermione to recall an especially vicious rant she’d subjected him to in their fifth year. An echo of that anger reared within her as she looked at him for the first time in years. 

“It would have to be particularly strange for Hermione Granger to be here with us,” Blaise offered up, his curious dark gaze locked with Hermione’s. Malfoy was quiet, eyes searching Theo and avoiding the witch. “Miss Granger, pleasure to see you again,” Blaise closed the space between them in three swift steps and grabbed her extended hand, turning it over and pushing a kiss to her knuckles. Unsure how to react to this kind of greeting, she looked to Theo who was rolling his eyes dramatically. Next to him, Draco did not acknowledge her, still focused on Theo. 

“You’re quite right, Blaise. Hermione here is the news actually,” he started as motioned for the group to sit in the cluster of armchairs. “I’m sure you two remember my father. Or perhaps I should say all of us do, since he did nearly try to kill Hermione during our fifth year. Obviously, he was a man of many failings. One of which included cheating on my mother, impregnating this unknown woman, and giving the baby up for adoption to muggles.”

“And that would make Granger -”

“My sister,” Theo finished for Blaise. “My half-sister, through my father.” The black wizard’s jaw dropped in response, taking a full five seconds to snap it shut. Malfoy was silent, the same stoic expression fixed on his face as when he sat down, arctic eyes still on Theo. 

“Hermione Granger, war heroine, is your sister? Or is it Hermione Nott?” Blaise looked between Theo and Hermione. 

“I’ll be adopting Nott as a middle name,” Hermione shared happily with a nod toward Theo, who beamed proudly at her. Hermione noted that Malfoy looked like he’d eaten something sour from the corner of her eye. 

“So Hermione Nott Granger, war heroine and now aristocat and possible pureblood. This will certainly be the talk of the town when it breaks,” Blaise studied the two siblings, looking thoughtful. 

“And it will soon,” Malfoy finally spoke up, his voice deeper than Hermione remembered. “My father wrote this morning with the news - apparently someone in the Ministry shared the news for a surprisingly low price.” An image of Lydria Gardner, Office Head and obvious snoop came to Hermione’s mind. She made a mental note to discuss her suspicions with Kingsley. 

“How long do you think we have?” Theo ran his hand through his hair, frowning. “I thought we’d have time to get used to our situation before sharing it with the whole wizarding world.”

“You should plan to announce it by Monday if you can. If my father knows, it is only a matter of time his contact turns to the press for some additional galleons.” 

“Do you think you could loop in your mother for assistance? I’m sure her contacts would be helpful for this.” Draco nodded in response. Hermione was shocked at how nonchalant they were. When her friends dealt with the press, it was chaotic, unwelcome, and nearly always a surprise. Apparently the upper crust had an inside edge. 

“Theo, you should also be prepared for an influx of proposals,” Draco said after a moment in a gentler voice, one Hermione had never heard him use when they were in school. The three boys nodded together silently and Theo suddenly appeared deep in thought. 

“What kind of proposals?” Hermione asked, wondering how the announcement would impact any business dealings Theo may have. Draco’s piercing eyes landed on Hermione for the first time since he entered the room, finally alive and incredulous.

“Is there a specific reason they call you the Brightest Witch Of Our Age? Because your ignorance is not in line with your reputation,” the venom she was familiar with returned to Malfoy’s voice, making her almost nostalgic for Hogwarts. 

“I only earned it figuring out how to defeat Voldemort,” she sighed, debating how to deal with the sullen man across from her. 

“Well, let’s ask that famous brain to join the conversation now,” he mocked, quirking a pale eyebrow to challenge her. Hermione mentally cursed the condescending prat. “You’re already a war heroine, famous in your own right, and connected to Saint Potter. You’re back from Australia for the first time in years, tan and fit fresh blood in our small community of eligible bachelors. Without any major life changes, you’d be getting attention,” Draco paused like an impatient tutor waiting for a dense student to catch up. “But add in the critical details; you’re now one of the richest witches in Britain with an ancient lineage and famous name. And you can’t forget the bonus of being either a pure or half blood for those who still cling to those ways. I imagine every unmarried wizard in England above the age of 17, and their greedy mothers, will be bombarding Theo with formal requests to court you.”

“Formal requests? Requests for me addressed to Theo? That is archaic,” Hermione huffed at the antiquated practices of wizarding society. 

“No shock that formal society is a mystery to you.” 

“No shock the years haven’t made you any more polite,” Hermione crossed her arms and turned her head away from the men. 

“You’re right, Draco,” Theo cut off the impending argument. “I didn’t think about the potential courting issues. And now I’m Lord Nott, so I’ll have to field everything.”

“I suspect you’ll be getting requests the moment you announce. I doubt people will wait until your formal presentation to society, Hermione.” Hermione’s eyebrows jumped to her hairline at Blaise’s mention of a formal presentation. 

“Since Hermione is going to be so popular, should I be worried about either of you owling me with requests?” Theo joked, looking between his two friends. 

“As lucky as I’d consider myself to be the object of Hermione’s affection for even a moment, I could never dream of being worthy enough,” Blaise flashed her a charming smile. She returned it, remembering how Lavender and Pavarti whispered about the suave wizard in their dorm room. Time had only amplified his skillset with people, and she couldn’t help but admire how easily he adapted, skewing endearing rather than slimy. 

“I’d rather die than marry Granger,” Draco said matter-of-fact with a shrug. Theo made a noise of protest, while Hermione narrowed her eyes at the pale man. “No offense intended Theo, you know I’d love to claim you as a brother in law, not just in spirit,” he quickly amended, bowing his head towards his friend. Blaise stifled laughter, but if it was at Hermione’s anger, Theo’s shock, or Draco’s blunt statement, Hermione wasn’t sure. 

“No offense, Theo?” Hermione didn’t care that he question came out shrill. She was ready to uncap the anger that had started boiling within her chest the moment Malfoy walked through the door. 

“Surely your feelings mirror my own? You can’t possibly be offended,” Draco scoffed with an eye roll. 

“Yes, they do. You’re just as vile as I remember. If given the choice between the Cruciatus Curse or you, I’d take the Cruciatus again in a heartbeat.” Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself not to drop her volume. “I’m just surprised, I suppose. I thought you’d be kinder to me when you found out my blood status. No reason for you to hate me anymore since I’m no longer a mudblood and all that,” she spat out the last sentence, curling her lip fiercely at him. 

The room fell silent. She could feel Theo’s eyes on her, but kept her gaze leveled at Malofy. He tipped his chin up definitely, the sneer she remembered so well from Hogwarts on his face. 

“I don’t care about that. I stopped caring about that the moment that lunatic moved in and started spilling blood of all kinds in my house. Watching blood coat my floors, I realized quickly that it is the same, no matter who it comes from,” Hermione’s stomach dropped at the mental image, remembering her own blood pooling on his floors and his aunt laughing hysterically above her. She pictured the overwhelmed teenager, trapped in his big house with Voldemort, frozen and terrified while she was tortured in front him. That day he had saved her and her friends during the war by refusing to identify them, a puzzle which she occasionally tried to solve when she struggled to fall asleep. Perhaps that teenager was the foundation for the man in front of her, so different from the little bully she detested; perhaps she could start over with him.

“While there are many reasons to hate you, your blood status wouldn’t rank among them,” Draco continued, hands clenched in his lap so tight Hermione could see his knuckles whitening. “No, I hate you Granger, because you’re still the know-it-all princess we knew in school. You are dangerously ignorant, and yet still thinking you’re the smartest person in the room. I’ve met bricks with better sense, but you’re here to weigh Theo down just the same,” The small flicker of empathy she’d just started to feel for Draco Malfoy was quickly snuffed out. 

“Draco!” Theo exclaimed, flushed red with either anger or embarrassment. 

“It’s fine, Theo. He may be horrid, but at least he is honest.” As Hermione spoke, ice came off her words. “I can deal with honest.” 

“Hermione, could you excuse us for a moment?” Theo asked in a strained voice, eyes never leaving Draco. She stood quickly and left with a parting nod, grateful to her new brother for giving her the opportunity to escape. She found respite in her favorite room, picking up a book from the stack she created yesterday and eagerly settling in to forget the heated exchange she just ran from.

A few minutes later a voice pulled her back to the present. “Should have known you would’ve moved into the library,” Blaise smirked goodnaturedly as he took in the stacks of books and the journals spread across the floor. “I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you what a pleasure this surprise has been.”

“Thank you for being so welcoming Blaise. I know we didn’t know each other well in school, but I am hopeful we can become better friends. For Theo.”

“Of course. I recall you being especially interested in the history of magic. Is that still the case?” When she nodded, he continued with a wider smile. “My mother’s fourth husband was a collector. We have some scrolls that date back to Augustus’ rule. Would you like to come by and see them at some point?”

“I can’t tell you what that would mean to me,” Hermione’s face lit up with excitement. 

“I look forward to it. And to getting to know you better,” he bowed his head. “Goodbye Hermione.”

“Bye,” she returned. Thankful for his friendly reception, she considered her previous encounters with Blaise Zabini, of which there were few. She mostly recalled his unwelcome sneer from Slughorn’s dinners. But this Blaise was warm, with a dashing smile fixed where that cold sneer used to be. She didn’t want to like him, but she had to admit that she did. “Likely even more because of how poorly it’s gone with Malfoy,” she thought, laughing to herself. 

“Where were you just off to, Hermione?” Theo asked from the doorway, his lanky form peeking in from the dark hall. Hermione wondered how long he’d been watching her. 

“Just thinking about Blaise.”

“Oh Merlin, please don’t.”

“No, no - not like that! He is just different than I remember him,” Hermione tried to stifle a giggle at the idea of her and Blaise. 

“Much bigger ego, it's true.”

“I just meant that he seems nice. So that makes one of your friends.”

“Right,” Theo glanced behind him with a grimace. “About that, Draco could you come in here?”

Hermione jumped up from the loveseat, ready for attack. The tall man stepped in next to Theo, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. While his face was asking for a fight, his words invited the opposite. “First, I’d like to apologize for calling you that awful slur while we were in school. I was parroting my father without a true understanding of what it meant. Obviously, I learned the hard way.”

“Thank you for your apology, Malfoy. I appreciate it.”

“I’m also sorry for my comment earlier. Today has been a long one already. I should have stated my personal feelings in a more respectful way,” he offered in a strangled voice as he looked to Theo instead of Hermione. She was desperately curious about what Theo said to prompt this. 

“Your personal feelings that you hate me? Is there a respectful way to state that?” Hermione snapped, feeling her irritation return like the crash of a wave. 

“Hermione!” Theo yelped as he gave her a pointed look as if to say “cut it out.” She took a deep breath and plastered a neutral look on her face. 

“Thank you, Malfoy. I’m sorry for insulting you as well.”

Draco gave her a stiff nod before turning to go. “Theo mentioned that you are working on the Wolfsbane Subsidy Act. Given my potions work, please let me know if I could be of any assistance with that. Unless you’d rather take the curse instead, that is,” he tossed over his shoulder before patting Theo on the back twice and leaving. 

Theo grabbed an unopened journal from the floor and flopped carelessly into an armchair, surprisingly without comment about the exchange. Hermione, however, was replaying the afternoon meeting in her mind. Malfoy’s warning words about the courting rituals echoed in her brain. “Theo, how did Malfoy even know I was in Australia?”

“Did you miss the part where he called you fit, then?” Theo’s face was covered by the journal, but the bemusement in his voice turned Hermione’s face red. “No idea on either part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long chapter! I was having too much fun with this one. Also some you called out a specific shady Ministry worker :)


	5. Braving The Burrow

“Malfoy is right,” Hermione finally said, breaking the stilted silence Theo’s comment had instigated. She ignored the pit in her stomach as she agreed with the git who’d just left them and shoved him from her mind. “We need to get ahead of this so the press can’t run wild with whatever narrative they cook up. Rita Skeeter is out for blood when it concerns me.”

“Why would a gossip columnist have a problem with you?” Theo asked, his curiosity finally bringing him out from the journal he has been scouring. 

“A long story for another time. I’ll promise I’ll tell you about it later - we have to focus on a plan,” she dismissed his concerned look. “I know we intended to tell my friends this week, but I think we need to act today, so we can file the papers and tackle the press on Monday. At a minimum I need to tell Harry and Ron, but ideally, I’d like to tell the Weasleys today too. They’re like a second family.” In response to his nods, she grabbed a piece of parchment and added: “You’ll have to come with me. I’ll owl them now to see if we could have dinner tonight.”

“We also need to handle the press. I will reach out to Lady Malfoy for help with her contacts so we can-”

“Actually, I am hoping I can pull in a reporter friend of mine to break the story. I’m sure we can schedule an exclusive tomorrow. But perhaps we could ask for Lady Malfoy’s guidance in dealing with the press after the story breaks?” Hermione interrupted, trying to be gracious, though the thought of interacting with Narcissa Malfoy turned her stomach. Theo nodded and grabbed parchment too. 

Later that evening, Theo and Hermione apparated just outside of the Burrow. The sight of it alone made her giddy with comfortable nostalgia, as she hadn’t seen it in two years. “Let’s talk battle plan.”

“Are we going into battle, then?” Theo twisted his mouth before morphing his expression into the cold indifference she associated with Slytherins when they were in school. In that moment, it occurred to her that he must have grown up going into one battle or another each time he sat down at a dinner table as a child.

“Deep breath. Nothing like that, the Weasleys are friendly. I just want you to know what we are walking into. Molly - Mrs. Weasley- will be shoveling food towards you and calling you too skinny. Arthur is a gentle man who might ask you a question or two, but he tends to sit back as things play out here. Ron’s older siblings will likely be polite. But don’t eat anything George gives you,” she added the warning sternly, recalling the Canary Custard Creams Incident from her fourth year. 

“Why not?” Theo asked suspiciously.

“Do you want to turn orange? Or sprout wings?” When Theo’s eyebrows hit his hairline, she continued quickly. “Then steer clear of George’s food. Also don’t stare at Bill’s wife - she is part-Veela.”

“She’s what?” Theo’s jaw dropped, no doubt picturing the flashy Bulgarian Quidditch team’s mascot lineup. 

“Fleur. She was the Beauxbatons champion in our fourth year. You may remember her?”

“Bloody hell, Blaise is going to kill me when he finds out I’ve had dinner with her.”

“Somehow I doubt he’d envy this dinner. She’s also happily married, Theo. Anyway, the people to be most concerned about are Ron, Harry, and Ginny. While they’re quick to react, I’m sure they’ll love you. Ready?” Hermione was nearly winded from expelling the information so rapidly. When he nodded, she gave him a reassuring grin and knocked before opening the door.

“Hermione!” Ginny yelled, pulling Hermione into a crushing embrace after she made it a single step through the doorway. Over her shoulder, Theo made eye contact with the youngest Weasely. He gave a small wave to the girl whose red eyebrows were knitted in deep confusion. “And you brought a guest?” 

“Yes, I hope that is ok,” Hermione said to Mrs. Weasley from over Ginny’s shoulder. 

“Of course, dear. Always room for another here. Now, come and give me a hug.” Molly barely finished her sentence before she embraced Hermione, who normally would’ve kept the hug short, was now happy to let her stand-in mother fuss over her. 

“This is Theo Nott,” Hermione beckoned him inside. “He was a classmate of our’s at Hogwarts.” Concern ghosted the Weasley women’s faces in recognition of the last name, but both masked it with welcoming smiles. 

“A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Weasley, and to see you again Miss Weasley. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Did you hear that Hermione? ‘Miss Weasley,’”Ginny mimicked Theo’s voice perfectly before chortling at the formality, a rarity in the Burrow from anyone, but especially from a peer. “I expect you both to address me as such for the rest of the evening,” the girl said as snobbily as she could. While Ginny and Hermione chuckled. Theo, who had been so carefree and ready to laugh for the past few days, had retreated into the quiet and awkward boy she remembered from school. Hermione nudged him gently and he smiled nervously at Ginny. 

“We were just sitting down out back. Come on with us, the family will be thrilled to see you,” Mrs. Weasely grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her alongside her. 

“Hermione!” excited voices chorused. Ron and Harry, wearing quidditch gear that was clearly just used for a pickup game, sprung up from the sea of ginger hair at the table and roped her in for a hug. She noted that somehow Ron had grown even taller and both boys were broader than she’s last seen them six months ago. Hermione breathed them both in while holding them tight, savoring this long overdue moment.

“Uh, Mionie?” Ron asked as he broke from the hug, staring at the tentative form of Theo Nott hovering behind her. Harry looked between Theo and Hermione, catching Ginny’s eye with a puzzled look. 

“Everyone sit, sit,” Mrs. Weasley hustled them into their seats. “So Hermione, you said that there was something important you’d like to tell us?” Molly asked hopefully, looking pointedly at Theo. 

“Right,” Hermoine exhaled, suddenly anxious about her friends’ reactions to the news that she was related to a Death Eater. An image of Fred lying on the cold, stone floor of the Great Hall flashed before her. She grabbed Theo’s hand for strength and looked around the table, gauging her surrogate family. George, Angelina, and Bill were all smiling at Hermione mischievously, while Ginny, Ron, and Harry were glaring at the brunette boy with narrowed eyes. Arthur, Percy, and Fleur gave her sympathetic looks. “Theo and I are, we’re, well,” she gulped, desperately wishing she’d had a sip of water before starting. “Theo is my-”

“Oh, I knew it! You make a wonderful couple!” Molly cut her off, her hand smacking the table excitedly. Theo choked on his drink and the table erupted. 

“You’re dating someone and you didn’t tell me?” Ginny demanded, jumping to her feet. “I can’t believe this!”

“Did you come back to England...for him?” Harry asked as he slumped a bit in his seat, green eyes tinted with hurt and confusion. 

“Him?!” Ron yelled over the chaos, looking murderous. “You’re dating him? He was a Death Eater!”

“A step up from my brother then,” George quipped, always relishing the opportunity to bring up Ron and Hermione’s two week attempt at a relationship after the war. Angelina smacked him on the arm while stifling her own quiet laughter. 

“Theo was never a Death Eater!” Hermione scolded the ginger, patting Theo’s hand as he rolled his jaw, eyes trained on the table. 

“His father was one. Same thing,” Ron huffed, his face nearly matching his hair.

“Well, then I guess I’m a Death Eater too,” she yelled back. The statement silenced the mayhem, leaving the entire table looking befuddled. “Theo is my brother!” Hermione exclaimed, realizing how loud her voice was only after she spoke. “He’s my half-brother. I was adopted, but my biological father was Theodore Nott Senior. We just found out -”

The table exploded again with questions, but these were tinged in excitement and wonder rather than anger. “Well don’t keep us on the edge of our seats! Tell us how you found out!” Ginny prompted above the noise. 

Hermione launched into the story of the past few days, starting with her urgent call only a few days ago and ending with arriving here. She strategically left out the conversation with Draco and Zabini, unwilling to expose Theo to the barrage of insults about his friends sure to pour out from Ron and Harry. As she talked, the table visibly relaxed. Finally, after she’d exhausted their questions, natural conversation took over. Stories and laughter buzzed around the table, interrupted intermittently by questions that various Weasleys had for Theo. 

“Bill, Theo is working as a curse-breaker contractor for the Ministry. I know he’s dying to hear about your work,” Hermione prompted across the table, hopeful that the oldest Weasley would throw Theo a lifeline. As the two launched into a lively conversation, she snuck a sidelong glance at Theo, studying him. The Weasleys could be overwhelming. She remembered how hectic her first visit was, and that was after knowing most of them rather well. As an only child, she struggled with the lack of privacy and quiet, but fell in love with the energy the house hummed with. It felt like the house wrapped you in a hug the entire time you were there. Theo’s eyes were dancing as he hammered Bill with questions. While he was still on edge, Hermione could see the shell he’d crawled back into at the start of the evening melt away. She smiled into her lap, proud of her two families, though a tad guilty, that he’d done so much better with her friends than she had with him. She failed, however, to hide a snigger when she realized that Theo was actively avoiding looking at Fleur.

“What’s so funny, Nott?” Harry whispered from her other side. She whipped her head around at the use of her new name and found him watching her with amusement. “Looks like you have a real brother now.” 

“There is no replacing you, Harry Potter,” she said as she pulled him into a side hug from her seat. “I think if you get to know him, both you and Ron will really like him.”

“He seems fine. You know we’d try anything for you.”

“I should warn you that he’s still close with Malfoy and Zabini, so you may need to interact politely with them at some point.”

“Again, I said we’d _try_ anything for you. No promises,” Harry gave her a shameless grin before the two dissolved into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, no Draco here. Don't worry, he'll be back! Also, there will be no Weasley bashing in this work, just an overprotective friend. I love ickle Ronniekins too much to make him a bad guy.


	6. The Interview (Sort Of)

“And finally, this is the library. We’ll do our interview in here, Luna,” Hermione gestured to the matching blue loveseats in the most comfortable room Nott Manor had to offer. Ginny, Luna, and Hermione sat down and started in on the biscuits and tea Hermione had left out under a warming charm before she started the tour. 

“Morgana, Hermione, this place is huge,” Ginny exclaimed, her hands full of jammie dodgers. “I can’t believe Theo lived here by himself for so long.”

Hermione was glad Ginny asked to tag along for the interview last night. While Hermione loved and appreciated Luna, she wasn’t always sure how to handle her. She also didn’t know how Theo would react to the eccentric witch and thought Ginny, who he’d talked about Quidditch extensively with at dinner, could be a contingency buffer. 

“We didn’t even cover all of it! But I’m glad you could both come over. Theo has made it as homey as he can, but having friends over it makes the place less creepy.”

“Do you like your new room?” Luna asked, her protruding eyes watching Hermione over her tea cup. “I’ll need to make you a cork bunting to hang above your door for protection.”

“Yes, I like it,” she answered, purposefully not asking Luna why she’d need a door decoration to avoid an explanation of whatever made up creature she was thinking about. Hermione thought about her new room, bone white, sparsely decorated, and bigger than the second floor of the house she grew up in. The first few days she stayed there she had slept fine in the giant room, likely a product of emotional exhaustion at how quickly her life had changed. Last night, however, she suffered a bout of insomnia and came to find the emptiness of the room jarring. Tossing and turning, she struggled to shut out the extremely annoying voice of Draco Malfoy criticizing her. She found that no amount of counting sheep could banish yesterday’s painful reintroduction from her head. Like a pesky weed, the image of the man’s slate eyes glaring at her had taken root in her head and refused to be pulled, even into the day. “But this room is my favorite,” Hermione stressed, gesturing at the cozy book-lined room and forcing herself to focus on her friends. 

“Hermione Granger liking a library? Shocking!” Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ginny, while Ginny threw her half-chomped biscuit at her. 

Hermione heard Theo’s breath hitch behind her. When she turned to look at her brother, he was staring at Luna with wide eyes. The blonde witch had dressed in sunshine yellow robes and piled her blond mane into a messy bun, held together by her wand. She knew her friend’s haphazard appearance was likely offputting to Theo, but hoped he could pull it together and be polite while she was here. 

“Hello there. Hermione, who do we have here?” Theo leaned against the doorway and grinned, his eyes still on Luna. 

“Of course, I apologize. Luna, this is my - my half-brother Theo Nott. Theo, this is my friend Luna Lovegood. She was a year behind us at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw.” 

“A pleasure, Miss Lovegood,” Theo said formally, striding towards her. He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles before offering a deep bow. “I’m honoured that a witch as lovely as you would grace us today. I’ve never seen the library more beautiful.” Hermione caught Ginny’s eyes, the two of them wearing matching shocked expressions at the suave greeting from the same man they’d seen so hesitant at dinner last night. 

If Luna was surprised at his formal welcome, she didn’t show it. Instead she gently smiled at him as he dropped her hand. “You’ve an infestation of nargles in the room to the left of the entrance,” Luna said dreamily, the only response to Theo’s unusually complimentary greeting. 

“Ah, I’m sure we have an infestation of a lot of things in the parlour. I’m actually working on that room right now. I’m in the process of curse-breaking and removing the Dark artifacts in the manor. Unfortunately, that means most of the rooms are sealed off,” Theo sighed. “My late father was a collector and each room is a new, terrible challenge. That room alone is full of cursed portraits.”

“I’ve never seen a cursed portrait before,” Luna commented airly, holding his gaze and tilting her head to the side in a curious fashion. Theo responded in kind, though he seemed to be more inquisitive about Luna than any portrait. 

“Would you like to?” At Luna’s nod, Theo offered his arm to her and led her from the sitting room, both practically floating on their feet. Their movements vaguely reminded her of a couple ice-skating, gracefully sliding together in sync as they walked across the white marble floor of the hallway. 

“What was that?” Ginny asked after a stunned beat. “Is that how Theo starts meetings?”

“No, he must not realize Luna is interviewing us. I never told him the reporter’s name,” muttered Hermione, still staring at the empty doorway they glided through in confusion. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt like chopped liver before,” Ginny mused. “He didn’t even see me I don’t think.” With that, Hermione took a closer look at her friend. She knew, objectively, that Ginerva Weasley was an attractive woman. Physically, she was slender and athletic with almost frustratingly easy to manage ginger locks. Ginny also knew how to dress to accentuate her best assets, evidenced by today’s navy dress and light blue robes. When they were in school she’d had multiple boyfriends and received a lot more attention than Hermione ever did. Hermione speculated that perhaps Ginny could help with the words from a certain blond that had kept her up well into the night. 

“Ginny, have you ever had someone call you fit to your face? Someone you don’t expect, I mean? Or even want to compliment you, really,” Hermione trailed off, abruptly unable to stop picturing the veins in Draco’s neck while he yelled at her yesterday. 

“Did Theo call you fit?” Ginny wrinkled her nose up in disgust. “Because I know you didn’t grow up together, but you’re still blood rel-”

“No! Merlin, no!” Hermione’s face was redder than any Christmas jumper Mrs. Weasley had ever given her. “Forget it, we need to go find them and get this interview back on track.”

Ginny and Hermione scrambled to their feet to catch up to the pair, running down the grand staircase by the front door. Upon hearing Luna’s voice from within the parlor, Ginny grabbed Hermione and pushed a single finger to her lips. They hovered by the door, pushed against the cold hallway wall, and listened.

“You don’t have to cover him up on my account. Being cursed can’t be terribly splendid, you know.”

“Well, he was clearly already blind to say anything disparaging about a witch as lovely as you. A blanket won’t change a thing. Plus, who doesn’t like yellow?” At this Ginny was grinning madly at Hermione, who shrugged in return. 

“Well, I’m used to people thinking I’m a bit odd. This was the first time for a portrait, though.”

“I’m used to that too. People and portraits, I mean. I’m stuck with countless rude portraits here who all like to voice their opinions.”

“I don’t remember you from Hogwarts,” Luna’s abrupt subject change was made smoother by the breeziness with which she made her observation. “I would’ve liked to know another odd person while we were there.”

“I spent most of my time outside of class alone. I still spend most of my time alone.” Hermione noted the sadness in Theo’s statement and she felt a pang of guilt. She’d never made an effort to get to know Theo while they were in school. She’d had no reason to, with their House rivalry and his best friend being her chief tormentor. But still, he had been suffering the whole time and she hadn’t lifted a finger. It was especially hard for her because she understood his loneliness perhaps better than anyone. From having few friends before Hogwarts to her solitary time in Australia, usually sitting with her parents while they were in magical comas, she was familiar with being alone.

“When people spend most of their time alone, it means they like their own company. I can see why you like your company.” Hermione squirmed in the silence that followed, eager to run in and break it so they could start the interview. Ginny kept an iron grip on her, shaking her head no. “It’s funny us standing together in this dark room,” Luna whispered, clearly now much closer to Theo. The two girls in the hallway strained to hear, Ginny plainly wishing for an extendable ear. 

“Oh? And why is that?” Theo whispered back, his voice throaty and low. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the sound, making Ginny clasp a hand over her mouth to keep any sound in. 

“Luna and Nott. Luna, Latin for moon and Nott, Old Norse for night. It’s a complementary pair, you know.”

Unable to handle the awkwardness of another silence, Hermione broke free from Grinny’s hold and entered the room with a too loud “Oh, there you both are.” The startled pair looked at Hermione, Luna smiling dreamily and Theo flustered at his sister’s entrance. 

“Yes, Hermione, here we are,” Theo said, throwing her an irritated look. “Are you interested in languages?” Theo smoothed himself as he turned back to Luna.

“Yes, my mum always said that language is a map. It can help you understand the past, present, and future of a culture.”

“C'est charmant,” Theo lit up, cocking an eyebrow boldly. “Mais pas si charmant comme toi.”

“Du är för snäll,” Luna responded, her face radiating nearly as much as her neon robes. 

“Swedish?” Theo looked impressed. Just as he opened his mouth again, likely to shower her friend with more honeyed compliments, Hermione interjected. 

“Luna is here to interview us,” she rushed out, feeling like she was intruding on whatever this moment was, but eager to accomplish the mission of their meeting. 

“Oh,” Theo looked confused, then disappointed. He stared down at his feet and Hermione kicked herself as she watched Theo withdraw. “Of course you aren’t here on a social call. I apologize for getting us so far off track from your work.”

“My most important work is often done while off track,” Luna assured, taking a small step closer to him. He snapped his head back up to look at her, prompting the pair to wear matching smiles.

“Luna writes for the Quibbler. Owns it, actually.”

“I’m familiar with the publication. Rather a life changing one,” Hermione suddenly recalled that his - their father had been outed as a Death Eater in their fifth year in the Quibbler, along with Lucius Malfoy. She bit her lip, unsure if she should tell Theo that Luna was also at the Department of Mysteries that night. Her mind wandered to what he and Draco must have thought of the Quibbler in school. Did they burn the magazine in the common room? Did they celebrate that their fathers were exposed? Or did they read the article silently in their dorm room, anxious and afraid? The rock in her gut told her which was most likely. 

“Theo is also interested in writing, Luna,” Theo shot her a look of warning, but she pushed forward. “He writes poetry.” Following their dinner last night, Hermione had caught him jotting down lines at the kitchen table. He refused to share it, but Hermione was determined to change that at some point.

“So, owner of the Quibbler,” Theo quickly broke in, to avoid any discussion of his writing. “Does that mean you have questions for us? For the interview, I mean.”

“I have countless questions for you. Some are for the interview too.”

The three of them joined Ginny back in the library. Hermione wasn’t sure how the girl had snuck back up ahead of them without detection, but credited it on growing up with Fred and George. Ginny beamed at the group when they entered, still stuffing biscuits wordlessly into her mouth. Hermione shot her a glare, but Ginny only blinked innocently at her. 

Hermione did not feel you could call the next half hour an interview. Between Luna’s meandering questioning and Theo alternating between asking Luna questions about herself and cracking puns in Mermish, Hermione only spoke up twice. On just one of those occasions did she speak about becoming a Nott. 

“I think I have what I need,” Luna smiled at Theo, who seemed to be searching for something to stop the conversation from ending. “I’ll put out a Sunday night special with the exclusive, just to be sure we get out ahead.”

“We’re thrilled you were able to join us today. I know the Quibbler is the right publication to break our story, especially with someone as capable as you wielding the quill. I appreciate you taking time to -” 

Ginny hugged Hermione goodbye as Theo babbled to Luna. “I think your brother is a secret dork about girls. He could fit right in with my brothers,” she whispered in her ear. The two girls giggled and pulled back to look at Theo. 

“Are those strawberries by the way?” Theo asked, grabbing his own ear lob. Luna nodded, touching one of her earrings gingerly. “Real strawberries! Exquisite. A delight, Miss Lovegood,” Theo said, focing his lingering gaze from her neck and earlobe. 

“Luna,” the witch corrected him, her grin so wide it nearly split her face. “I look forward to seeing you again, Theo Nott.”

“And I you, Luna,” his voice drew out her name as the blonde flitted out the door. “Nice to see you too, Ginny,” he called as the two women walked to the floo together, as if he just now realized Ginny was there. 

“She’s amazing,” Theo breathed, twirling around to look at her Hermione. His warm brown eyes were exuberant as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Tell me everything you know about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a little bit of a subplot! When I started writing Theo in chapter 2, I realized how much I wanted to pair him up with Luna. They're both endearing weirdos with hearts of gold. I hope I did Luna justice here - she is one of my favorite HP characters. We're back to the main event in the next chapter.
> 
> Also a translation for the bit in French and Swedish (via Google translate, so someone tell me if I messed up):  
> “That is beautiful,” Theo lit up, cocking an eyebrow boldly. “But not as beautiful as you.”
> 
> “You are too kind,” Luna responded, her face radiating nearly as much as her neon robes.


	7. Tea Time With Trouble

“Luna is - well, I’m not sure where to start with Luna,” Hermione dithered, trying to figure out how to answer her brother’s request to learn more about her quirky friend. She was desperately curious to hear what Ginny was telling Harry and Ron at 12 Grimmauld Place about their strange interview. “She is just a bit hard to put into words. But I met her on the Hogwarts Express fifth year when -”

“Oh bollocks, we are going to be late,” Theo interjected as he looked at the ringing grandfather clock near the library door. “You can tell me while we walk.”

“Late for what?” Hermione rose to join him, the pair walking to the floo quickly. 

“Tea with Lady Malfoy. I told you about it yesterday,” Theo sounded surprised that he had to explain again. Hermione sighed, frustrated that he had not, in fact, told her yesterday or at any other point in time. At that moment, she decided to get Theo a planner for Christmas. “She wrote me asking us to tea before I even sent out my request for her help with the reporters. I thought we could ask for her assistance in person since we were already going there,” Theo said as they arrived in front of the fireplace. He pinched the floo powder, threw it in and enunciated “Malfoy Manor” before disappearing into the green flames. 

Hermione stared at the empty fireplace, frozen. She tried for over two years to put Malfoy Manor from her mind, though she frequently found herself back there in her nightmares. She briefly debated not walking into the floo, instead running up to her room and hiding under her covers, but she called up her Gryffindor courage instead and took a pinch of the powder. Theo didn’t know about her only other visit to the manor and she wouldn’t abandon him. She took a deep breath before throwing the powder in and squeaking the place she wanted to revisit least: “Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione stepped out onto a black marble floor of a room she hadn’t seen before and looked around. She postulated it was a ballroom from the high ceilings and intricate chandelier before scoffing internally that of course the Malfoys would have a ballroom in their home. Even Nott Manor didn’t have that. Her brother stepped in front of her, brows furrowed as he studied her, and rubbed a bit of soot from her cheek. “Get lost on the way here?” Theo asked sarcastically to her in a hushed tone, grabbing her arm and dragging her forward with him. “Lady Malfoy, may I present Lady Nott-Granger?” 

The pale woman stood a full head above Hermione, thin and impeccably dressed in tailored robes. An inner warmth melted the icy look of her pale blue eyes as she took in Hermione with a small smile playing on her lips. “Lady Nott-Granger, it is a pleasure to have you in my home and under better circumstances this time,” Lady Malfoy said in a clear voice as she deftly curtsied. Before Hermione could react to that statement glossing over her tourture likely a few rooms away, Theo pushed her forward slightly and she clumsily returned the gesture. 

“Thank you for inviting us, Lady Malfoy,” Hermione said shakily, looking to Theo for direction. He waved his hand towards Lady Malfoy as if to prompt her into saying more. “Please call me Hermione,” she added, willing her hands to steady. 

“I’d be thrilled to, Hermione. You may call me Narcissa,” the witch responded quickly, her friendly face becoming less and less like Malfoy’s with each moment. “I’ve set up tea for us in the sunroom, if you’ll follow me.” 

Theo offered his arm to Narcissa, which she playfully smacked away before accepting. “You’re growing into such a handsome young man, Theo. I can’t believe a young witch hasn’t snached you up,” Narcissa whispered proudly and patted the arm he escorted her with. Theo looked back at Hermione and winked brazenly. “While my son may not be interested in my matchmaking skills, maybe I could help you.”

As Narcissa updated Theo on the lives of various aristocratic young witches, Hermione glanced around the dark hallway they were walking down. The walls were totally bare, the various portraits that hung when she was last here removed. Hermione subconsciously grabbed her marred forearm, unable to stop her glance from darting side to side. When her breathing became more difficult, she began to count mentally, tuning out the conversation ahead of her. 

“Here we are,” Narcissa announced, ushering the half-siblings into a room brighter than any they passed on the way. Nearly entirely windows, the sunroom was cheery and cozy, reminding Hermione of the Nott Manor library. She felt immediately more at ease. As Theo walked Narcissa to one of the yellow armchairs surrounding the tea table the witch whispered wistfully, “I wish your mother was still with us to see you. She’d be so proud of you.” She pinched Theo’s cheek theatrically before taking a seat. Hermione shifted awkwardly just inside the doorway, realizing how out of place she was in this scene. To Theo this was likely one of the happiest places from his childhood, running amuck in these hallways with a small Draco Malfoy and finally having a mother figure fawning over him.

“Please join us, Hermione. I’ll get us some tea. Mippy!” With a crack of apparition a house elf appeared. Hermione let out an audible sigh at the sight of the elf. Theo had made it a point to give the house elves at Nott Manor out of sight tasks, tailored to their preferences, and vacation days, after a house elf appeared when they first entered the manor. It was their plan to work out a fair agreement for the house elves so they would be at their happiest, whether that was freed or working for a fair wage. She was sure the elves weren’t given the same considerations here.

“I’m so happy you could join me. I see you too little as it is, Theo, But before we get to talking, I thought I should get the reason for my invitation out of the way. First, an apology. Hermione, I trust you got my note of apologies following my trial, but I do want to say again how sorry I am from my sister’s actions.”

At this a line formed between Theo’s eyebrows as he looked at her questioningly. Hermione was not eager to hash out the details, so she trained her eyes back on Narcissa, pursing her lips and giving a short nod of acknowledgement. 

“Good. Now, the reason I asked you here was not only to reintroduce myself properly, but to offer my assistance. Theo has been like a second son to me and I’d do anything to help him. I know how surprising this change must be for both of you, but an announcement cannot be put off forever. You’ll need a formal introduction to society soon and, if you’d like, I’d be happy to meet with you every few weeks to help mentor you.”

“Mentor me?”

“You’re playing over 20 years of catch up to your peers. You may not have to handle the matters of the Nott estate like your brother, but things are still expected of you. I’m sure Theo has talked through the issues of courting from his end, but it is quite different if you’ve actually gone through the process.”

“I’m not particularly interested in being married off to the highest bidder like a cow being sold at the market. This isn’t the 16th century,” Hermione huffed, irritated to be lectured on her marital expectations by a second Malfoy. She could see Theo pinch the bridge of his nose next to her. 

Narcissa threw her head back gracefully, quiet pearls of laughter escaping her. After a moment, she caught her breath and smooth her skirt, an amused look remaining on her face. “I know the public opinion of Lucius, and probably your personal opinion of him too, is exceptionally low. But no one dared call me his cow before.” Hermione could feel her face turning to a scowl, both from embarrassment and frustration at Narcissa’s reaction. “Times have changed from when I was of marrying age anyway, with love matches much more prominent. Formal courting is a necessary formality to get to that. Though I doubt that Theo would hold you to any marriage proposals anyway.” Theo nodded, taking Hermione’s hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“As the Lady of a house,” Narciss continued, her voice becoming more self-important, “whether of the Nott house or if you marry into another, you have certain responsibilities. Nott Manor and the Nott house elves are under your direction, as well as your duty as a patron of the community.”

“A patron of the community?” Hermione latched onto that, but tucked the house elves piece into her mental back pocket for later. 

“Theo, you really haven’t given her a primer have you?” Narcissa practically tutted, but Hermione realized she must fancy herself too refined. 

“We’ve been busy! It’s been less than a week!” Theo held his hands up. 

“Hermione, the families who hold these titles are duty bound to uphold aspects of our society. The Malfoys and Notts both maintain Diagon Alley, along with a handful of other families. This patronage is a blood oath. Additionally, many take on different causes that matter to them. For example, Lucius was on the Hogwarts Governors Board. I myself sit on several charitable boards. I’m sure that any organization you’re interested in joining would’ve taken you before to use your fame to fundraise. Now, you bring your own fortune to the table, no longer a pawn, but a real player in the decisions they make.”

Theo was watching Hermione with a smug look. “I told you, becoming a Nott opens doors to make the difference you want, but you need to play the game,” he said with a lopsided grin. 

“Six months ago I read in the Prophet that the Wizgamont denied the Centaur Defense Act, which I’m sure you either wrote or assisted with. Marcus Bulstrode sits on the council and the Bulstrodes are patrons of Diagon Alley. Virginia Selwyn is on the St Mungo’s Board with me and her husband also sits on the council. These relationships could help you help the world.”

“You don’t have to just be a lady of society, Hermione. You can be a lady who shapes society,” Narcissa gave her a meaningful look as she said it. If it had been anyone else, she might have believed her to be genuine in her desire to help. But she was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always want something. 

Hermion took a deep breath. Theo had been right. If she was willing to use the tools their name provided, even if they may be unsavory types like the Malfoys, she could make a real and positive change. After a moment of consideration, Hermione smiled at Narcissa. “I’d certainly be open to learning more,” she said slowly, shocked that she’d agreed to meet with Narcissa not just again, but regularly. “It looks like I may need someone to fill the gaps Theo leaves,” Hermione teased her brother. 

“I was promised tea and conversation, and now I’m being ganged up on by two of England’s most charming witches instead!”

What followed their uncomfortable start was a surprisingly pleasant tea. Narcissa was especially interested in what Hermione did for work, asking several questions about her goals and passions. Hermione found herself shocked by the witch again and again, as she hadn’t expected her to have such an interest or be so well versed in Ministry matters. But, she was a Malfoy, Hermione found herself thinking after each enjoyable surprise. 

“Perhaps if you fundraise there you could -”

“Mother, I already told you I -” Draco burst into the room, cutting his mother off with his frustrated outburst before stopping short at the sight of Hermione and Theo with teacups to their lips. His iron eyes bounced between Theo and Hermione and his mother a few times, before narrowing at Narcissa. 

“I didn’t realize we had company, Mother,” he fumed as he ran his hand through his hair. “You might have mentioned that when you sent for me.” Hermione considered him for a moment as he addressed Narcissa, her eyes tracing the curve of his cheekbones and the twist of his irritated lips. For a moment “ _ he’s handsome _ ,” echoed in her brain. Though she’d thought of his vile words and terrible apology practically the entire night before, her mind’s eye didn’t do Draco’s face justice. Hermione mentally scolded herself for allowing such intrusive thoughts, outraged that some part of her brain could find him attractive.

“Oh Draco, please join us,” Narcissa said, an order concealed in a sugar tone. Draco sneered at her, still in the doorway, and Hermione was grateful to see the expression directed at someone else. Narcissa looked at him imploringly when he didn’t move, inciting him to walk stiffly to the chair next to his mother. 

“Theo. Granger,” Draco greeted them with a formal bow, tight lipped and uncomfortable, before sitting down. Hermione realized he was avoiding looking at her, a repeat of their first encounter yesterday. 

“As I told your mother, Hermione, please,” Hermione responded lightly in an attempt to force the arrogant bastard to look at her. He grunted while looking at Theo. Was she truly so horrible that he couldn’t even take in the sight of her?

“We were just discussing Hermione’s underfunded wolfsbane subsidy work and I suggested she organize an event to raise funds. As I started saying, I’m unfortunately too busy with my other charitable engagements to get into the minutiae.”

“Fascinating,” Draco said absently, pouring himself a cup of tea. 

“Your mother and Theo were talking about my formal presentation and I thought I could put on a charity ball rather than attend the wizarding debutant event. This way, we could get more people to attend and actually contribute to something, rather than just have a party.” Draco nodded at Hermione’s left hand, pursing his lips in inattentive agreement with the idea. 

“But I thought that you two boys could help get Hermione to sort through things. I can do some work on the front end, of course.”

“I’m not much of a planner, but with your help I’m sure we will succeed, Narcissa,” Theo agreed. 

“Draco will help, won’t you darling,” Narcissa asked sweetly, another covert demand. 

“Of course, Mother. I would never dream of letting the werewolves of London suffer,” he smirked at Theo. Narcissa smiled at him before taking a sip of her tea. Hermione recognized that smile. She’d seen it on Harry’s face just before he caught a snitch, and Ginny’s when she first sniffed out a secret, and Ron’s when he was one move away from checkmate and his opponent hadn’t figured it out yet. It was the face of knowing you’ve already won before anyone else realized. Hermione’s stomach sank at the realization, anxious to know what exactly Narcissa considered her prize. 

Hermione and Draco were both quiet as Theo and Narcissa moved onto her help with fending off the press after the story ran in the Quibbler in the evening. After a few minutes of staring at her Narcissa and nodding whenever there was a pause, Hermione felt his gaze on her. It felt like he was casting a hole into her head from a blind spot, but she fought the urge to look at him. The longer this went on the more uncomfortable she became, fidgeting her hands, biting her lip, and wishing she could take off her outer robes because the room had become quite hot. After several minutes, Hermione finally looked at him, only to see his gaze on his own teacup and nowhere near her at all. Perhaps she’d imagined it, which worried her far more than the arrogant ass looking at her. 

“I do so appreciate you both for coming. Hermione, look for my owl this week to set up a lunch. And Theo, come here for a moment, I can give you the name of the etiquette tutor we sent Draco to. It looks like you have a few things to get in order before any formal presentation.” Hermione wanted to feel offended, but she privately and begrudgingly agreed. 

Draco opened the door and practically ran away from the room. Hermione started following him to leave, but quickly realized she’d gone the wrong way to the floo. She turned and walked down another corridor, feeling a bit like a child lost in a hedge maze. After rounding another corner, a huge pair of black doors entered Hermione’s view. They triggered a flood of images, Bellatrix standing over her laughing, the knife cutting into her, Draco’s pained face watching, all flashed before her. Suddenly she couldn’t breath and felt herself sink to the floor, tears pouring from her eyes. 

“Brightest witch around and yet you’re directionally challenged, Granger? Theo is looking fo- Granger?” She heard a deep voice behind her, but it sounded far far away. She felt a hand on her back, tentative and warm. “Granger?” It was Draco’s voice. She choked on a small sob. “Best we get away from the door,” the voice said, in that same gentle tone she heard him use with Theo a few days ago. She felt herself lifted off the floor by a strong grip on her back and shoulder. “Can you walk?” She nodded and they walked in silence, the ability to breath returning and her vision clearing. She was walking down the bare hallway again, the one from earlier, with Draco’s hand still on her shoulder. After a few moments, she realized how close her was and turned to look at him. He was watching her as they walked, eyebrows furrowed and free arm awkwardly out at his side, seemingly waiting for her to collapse again. Once she made eye contact, he seemed to release a breath he’d been holding. “That room needn't worry you anymore. Mother made the room unplottable before we sealed it off together,” Draco whispered, voice calm and clear. 

“Thank you,” Hermione squeaked, her voice catching in her raw throat. While she was mortified that Draco Malfoy was the one who found her, she was grateful he was being kind. Before this moment, she doubted his capability in the area. 

“Well, we didn’t do it for you,” Draco spat out. “You weren’t the only one tortured there.” Draco grabbed his hand back away from her shoulder with a face of disgust, as though she was contagious with Dragon Pox.

“Charming as always, Malfoy,” she snarled, all other feelings replaced by a white hot anger. “I meant for helping me, you prat.” On her final word, he turned away from her and stomped forward. 

“Just follow me,” he said without turning around, his words like ice. Hermione glared so hard at the back of his stupid blonde hair she was shocked it didn’t burst into flame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But of course the Malfoys have the longest chapter so far. Enjoy!


	8. In The Library With A Quill

Draco spent most of the next week mentally repeating “ _ of course _ .” Of course Mother invited Granger over without waiting like she promised. Of course she lured him to the room without warning him Granger would be there. Of course he was voluntold to assist with a charity he had no interest in under the leadership of Britain’s most annoying witch. Of course Granger was immediately reminded of that time his family tortured her. And of course he had to be rude to her when she thanked him for basic decency. 

He hadn’t meant to be such a prat when he found he frizzy-haired witch crumpled on the ground, sobbing in front of that horrid set of dark doors. But Granger had no idea how many people he watched tortured and killed in that room. Merlin, the lunatic had put him under an Unforgivable in there to punish Lucius. Not that he wanted to share that tidbit with Saint Potter’s self-centered, self-important brainiac. He’d never told anyone what had happened to him there, except for his mother and Tippy. That room would be unplottable regardless of her involvement, and it was so like the girl he remembered from Hogwarts to think of herself as the catalyst for the change. So he’d acted accordingly, slipping back to the harsh little boy he was when they met. 

He’d tried to warn Theo about that girl the moment Granger left the room on Saturday afternoon, reminding him of her insults, her need to win, her ignorance of wizarding culture, and her skewed sense of justice. Theo demanded Draco put his suspicion that Granger had cooked up a scheme to infiltrate the elite and bring them down from the inside, and because Theo was Draco’s brother, he had put that to bed. It was looking more and more like that fear was wrong anyway. What Draco didn’t voice to Theo was his concern that the Gryffindor Princess would poison Theo against him out of spite for all the stupid things he did as a boy. If the verbal beatdown Theo gave him for insulting his sister was any indication, that bond was already solidified. Draco was sure he’d lost his oldest friend the moment Granger told Theo about his comments walking towards the floo. It’s not as though Draco had friends to spare. 

As soon as he saw Granger step through the floo on Sunday afternoon, Draco threw himself into his potion experimentation to distract himself. While his father had primed him to go down the same political path he had carved for himself, Draco had built up a small potions company to sell his healing-focused inventions instead. When he wasn’t with Blaise and Theo, or attending some charity event with Mother, or flying in his backyard, he was tinkering with potions. For most of the next week, Draco could be found in the potions lab he built in the  Acton-Malfoy Cottage, working well into the night. Crouching over the cauldron was the only respite from him replaying Hermione Granger’s big brown eyes switching from previously unseen gratitude to familiar disgust. When he wasn’t chopping and measuring and stirring, he was reading old potions books to avoid being alone with his own mind. 

“Draco, my love,” his mother’s voice, sweeter than he’d heard in years, interrupted him one day at lunch. Immediately suspicious, he dropped his book on the table and eyed her. “Could you please stop by Theo’s today and drop something off for me?”

“Do I look like an owl, Mother?” Draco drawled, making a show of rolling his eyes. They both knew he’d humor whatever request she’d make of him. 

“Oh stop that, it’s Thursday. Don’t you usually go to Theo’s for your card game? I just thought you could give these papers to Lady Nott-Granger while you were there.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m going there for my friends. I’m not going to get roped into whatever shenanigans you’re working on with that insufferable swot.” He ignored his mother’s chiding and returned to his book. She still hadn’t clued him into whatever she wanted from the young witch, and Draco knew better than to ask questions now. 

Draco arrived at Theo’s a bit earlier than their normal meeting time, eager to avoid a run-in with the know-it-all. If he timed it right, she’d still be at the Ministry, neck deep in some pathetic creature work. When he didn’t find Theo in the sitting room, dining room, or kitchen, he decided to check the library. Unfortunately for him, the moment he opened the door, that pair of big brown eyes that had been haunting him all week stared back at him, this time wide with surprise. Granger was curled into the window seat of the library, the bird’s nest she called hair taking up practically as much space as her body. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“Oh,” Draco finally let out, feeling himself deflate a bit. “I thought you’d be at the Ministry,” he added in a flat voice, working to keep himself as indifferent as possible. 

“When I went in on Monday I could barely get in the door. The press went wild after Luna’s article Sunday night. I’ve only seen positive things in other publications, though, so I suspect I need to thank your mother,” Hermione said, looking begrudgingly pleased. She twisted her wild curls to one side as she talked, exposing more of her caramel neck. “Anyway, Kingsley told me to work from here until we figure it out since I’ve been working alone for so long anyway. What are you doing here?” Her tone was cheerful, but the tension in her brow underlined the aversion driving her question. 

“Mother asked that I help you with the Annual Wolfsbane Subsidy Fund Charity Ball, and so here I am,” he said nonchalantly, pulling out a shrunken package from his pocket. 

“The what?” Granger asked shrilly, her curiosity drawing her up from the window seat and towards the matching loveseats. Draco silently deposited the package on the table between the couches, flicking his wand to reveal a parcel of papers. Hermione pounced on it like a lioness hunting a zebra, grabbing the package and tearing it apart to feast on its insides. “Why, she’s already created a guest list!” One paper was discarded and another picked up. “And picked a date. This was just an idea we discussed, nothing concrete. Oh Morgana, I suppose there is no backing out now.” Draco shrugged, amused at her frustration. Finally, someone else Mother could meddle with. Perhaps having Granger around had some benefits. “Well, since you’re already here I suppose we should get started.”

“As much as I appreciate such a tempting invitation, I’m actually here for a weekly game with Theo and Blaise. I was just meant to be an owl for the evening.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize,” Granger looked at him for a beat before shrugging. “Well, I want to talk to Theo about this anyway. I think he is in his study, let’s go together.”

“His study?” Draco asked, trailing Hermione into the hallway. The witch nodded over her shoulder at him. “I’ve never seen him there in our entire adult lives.”

“He’s been holed up in there all day. I’m not sure what he is working on, but he didn’t come out for lunch.” Draco grimaced, imagining what Dark object Theo could’ve found that would be so engrossing. 

“Since we’ll need to meet to work through some of the ball logistics, I’m happy to work at Nott Manor or my house,” Draco said, stepping in time next to her and giving her a sidelong glance. “Not the Manor,” he added rapidly when he saw panic twist across her face. “I’m sure you don’t want to go back there unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“You don’t live in the Manor?” Draco noted the surprise in her voice. 

“No, it is not my cup of tea,” Draco said, finding himself looking at her closely for a reaction. She offered none, keeping her face uncharacteristically blank. If she had any follow up questions, which was likely given who she was, she didn’t voice them.

“Sunkissed, promised, maybe.” They heard Theo muttering to himself as they entered the study to see him flipping through a thick book with an exasperated frown. “A goddess so sunkissed, the - the morning light promised. No, that’s terrible,” Theo groaned, dropping his head into his hands in frustration. Draco and Granger shared a glance, the witch’s firewhiskey eyes filled with amusement and Draco’s gray ones clouded in confusion. Draco raised a pale blonde eyebrow at her, prompting her grin to grow. Draco hadn’t seen Granger look mischievous before, he hadn’t thought the prim girl was capable of it. She only shrugged before focusing back on Theo and interrupting his scribbling with a cough. The lanky man jumped at the sound before looking between the two people lurking at his office door. “Uh, hello you two. What are you doing here, Draco?”

“It's Thursday,” Draco said, feeling rather stupid. 

“I owled you earlier, rescheduled our game. I heard back from Zabini, but I guess I never got your response. Time got away from me today,” Theo rushed out, his leg bouncing frantically from behind his desk. Draco noted his friend’s typically tame brown hair was nearly as wild as his sister’s. He clearly had been pulling his hair and running his hands through it. “I know this is twice in a row. Sorry, Draco,” he added apologetically before looking back down at his parchment. 

“ _ Of course, _ ” the dreaded phrase rang out within his head again. “ _ Mother _ .” Stealing his mail to force him into doing something was a new level of manipulation from his mother. 

“What are you working on?” Granger sing-songed, her small form moving surprisingly quick towards the desk while straining to see what Theo was holding. 

“Nothing!” Theo hurriedly gathered up all his papers, shoving them into the desk drawer. Draco was reminded of the terrible weeks in their shared dorm room prior to the Yule Ball, suddenly clued into the witch’s glee. 

“Lots of language books here,” Granger drawled, her eyes sweeping across French, Latin, and German dictionaries. “Writing something for someone in particular?”

“No, it is none of your business, so I won’t be sharing it,” Theo gritted through his teeth, glaring at both Granger and Draco.

“We will leave you to it,” Draco answered, uneager to recreate the poetry meltdown he witnessed in fourth year. When Granger didn’t move to leave, he grabbed her by the elbow and practically dragged the stubborn witch out. 

“Get off me,” she hissed as they made it through the door, pulling to go back inside. 

“Must you be so nosy?” Draco huffed, yanking her until she collided with him. “Theo is very private about courting.” Granger looked up at him in surprise, her warm form pressed against his chest. As the subtle scent of vanilla hit him, Draco realized how close they were and quickly pushed her away. “I suppose my plans are canceled. We can start working now if you’d like.”

Once they returned to the library, Draco picked the papers up and reviewed them. “Right, well, it looks as though mother has created the guest list, selected the date, written out invitations demanding donations, and left written instructions for us. We’ll still need to find and coordinate vendors, start the fundraising campaign, and get things set up.”

“I can assist with that too.” Draco suppressed an eye roll as the swot seemed to brighten at the prospect of busy work. “Since this is connected to a proposed Ministry Act, I’ll work the Ministry angle. I’ll start with Kingsley and the Department Head before filing the needed paperwork.” 

As the two set to work, the familiar sound of quills scratching against parchment filled the air. After nearly an hour of silence, Granger let out a small yawn, drawing Draco’s attention away from his paper. Across from him, she was bent over her parchment, delicate hands scribbling like mad. She held the quill gracefully, churning out annoyingly perfect script at unbelievable speed. Draco was surprised he’d never noticed that her fingers were long for such small hands, making them look graceful. Draco felt her gaze on him and shot his head up to meet her eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring. 

“Why did you help me the other day?” Her blunt question caught him off guard, and he coughed to cover his surprise. 

“Must you talk?” Draco hoped his harsh response would cut the conversation off. The girl across from him frowned at him for a beat. 

“It’s just - you hated me in school so much.”

“You hated me too.” 

“Could you blame me?” Granger glared at him, no doubt reliving his meanest remarks and cruelest hexes. 

“Well, could you blame me?” Draco challenges back, remembering his anger when he learned she was part of the reason his father, his hero at the time, was going to prison. He kicked himself for going down this route. Rehashing all the ways he’d wronged her was not going to win points with Hermione, which meant it wouldn’t be good for Theo. He looked around the room for another topic. 

“What’s with the journals?” He gestured to the piles on the floor in the far corner with his quill, eager to shift away from their mutual hatred. 

“Must you talk?” Granger grinned at him smugly at him, rendering him unable to stop his eyes from rolling this time. “We are trying to figure out who my biological mother is,” she added suspiciously quickly, dropping her eyes to the table. Draco wondered if that was everything they were looking for; Nott Senior was one of the slimiest Death Eaters Draco interacted with. No doubt there’d be some skeletons to uncover there. Granger was likely ravenous for answers. 

“Right. I hadn’t considered your mother,” he offered, worried she was going to drop this topic for the earlier one. 

“Yeah, Theo and I have focused on our father. I want to know - need to know about them both. I just - I don’t know what to expect,” Granger paused, working her lip worriedly for a moment. “She was sleeping with a married man. A Death Eater. A murderer,” her voice growing smaller. Even said softly, the accusation was clear to Draco. 

“You think Death Eaters are unworthy of affection then?” Draco sneered at the woman across from him. 

“How can someone reconcile horrible acts with sex? Love?” Hermione’s brows were furrowed as she chewed on the question. 

“So people who are around evil are automatically evil?”

“Not around. But perhaps loving an evil person, truly loving them, might make a part of you evil,” Granger said thoughtfully, as though thinking through a sodding equation rather than passing judgements on something she knew nothing about. 

“So, what then? Theo’s evil?” Draco’s voice grew louder and more angry. 

“No! Of course not.”

“My mother’s evil?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her volume escalated too.

“So I’m evil?”

“Yet to be determined, Malfoy!”

“You think you can run your pretty mouth and it’ll turn you ignorant garbage to gold. Same bloody swot Granger!” Draco launched out of his seat, now fully shouting while he loomed tall over her seated form. This didn’t seem to intimidate the daft cow, who was glowering him at him from her seat. 

“I was thinking out loud! It has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes, it -” Draco was interrupted by Granger’s hands slamming on the table, standing to match him. 

“I was talking about MY family, not your’s. Shocking, you still think the world revolves around Malfoy!”

“If you don't’ shut your mouth, I’ll do it for you, Granger.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Malfoy.” 

They were both leaning over the table with narrowed eyes, faces close enough to touch. Granger looked him up and down with disgust before landing on his arm. While she had her hand resting on her wand, Draco realized he was clutching his forearm instead. Her face flickered with unwelcome pity, clearly remembering the mark that lurked beneath his sleeve. Draco dropped his arm and tore his gaze away, unwilling to acknowledge the unspoken recognition. 

“Let’s just get this done, Granger,” he whispered hoarsely without looking at her, the anger knocked out of him by her misplaced sympathy. He dropped back into his seat and started reviewing the papers once more. The pair worked in a thick silence for the next 45 minutes, neither looking at the other until Draco wordlessly pushed his parchment towards her, and stood to leave. 

“I helped you because I’m not evil,” the words he’d been repeating in his head since she asked tore themselves from his mouth before his feet could help him escape the room. He took a deep breath and let the unrefined word vomit continue. “I may not deserve to be loved, or liked, but I’m not evil. I needed you to know that.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to lose Theo,” he said, feeling stupid for repeating the obvious a second time in one evening. 

“You think I’d cut you out?” Granger gasped at that suggestion, he hand flying to her chest in surprise. He gave no response, careful to keep his face neutral. “You’re his childhood best friend, Malfoy. You love him. I love him. For Theo, and for this charity ball for that matter, we need to be civil.” Draco gave a sharp nod and paused in the doorway as she spoke again. “I will never trust you. And I’m not asking you to trust me or apologize to me or forgive me. Just be civil.”

Draco nodded once more and walked as quickly as he could to the floo. Hermione bloody Granger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 5 chapters we got another Draco POV! Hopefully this sheds a little light into what he's been such a jerk


	9. Wounded and Healed

Hermione stood outside the tea shop in muggle London, hand outstretched towards the door. She lingered there, still questioning if lunch with Narcissa would be worth the trouble. At a minimum, it couldn’t be worse than her disastrous working session with Malfoy last week. Taking a deep breath, Hermione steeled herself and pushed through. She had originally been surprised when Narcissa suggested a muggle place to meet, anxious that this was some strange ploy to showcase how accepting she was. However, when Narcissa mentioned in her note that she and Andromeda had been meeting here regularly following the war, Hermione felt a bit more comfortable. 

“Hermione,” Narcissa warmly greeted her from the corner, a high tea spread ready for them at the small table. Perhaps comfortable was not the right word. 

“Narcissa, hello,” Hermione plastered on her polite smile and sat down. The older witch across from her looked polished as ever, her robes transfigured into a muggle sheath dress and her hair slicked back into a neat twist. Hermione felt excessively underdressed in her jeans, kicking herself for not talking to Theo before leaving the manor. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I ordered the full spread for us. I thought it might be a bit of fun to do a real ladies tea,” Narcissa said as she poured a cup for Hermione.

“I haven’t done high tea since I was a child, so this is a lovely treat.” Hermione eyed the scones, hoping Narcissa couldn’t hear her stomach gently rumbling. She realized she’d been so caught up in her Nott research, she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. Hermione had hit a dead end with personal journals and was trying other books in the private library, looking for hints about the memory curse in Dark magic tomes she’d never have access to in any other location. 

“My mother took all us girls out for special teas too. Of course not in muggle London, but this place brings me back to those memories just the same.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione said politely, hoping not to discuss her sisters in further detail. The simple mental image of a child Bellatrix was jarring enough.

“Did you go to tea with your mother?” Narcissa asked after taking a dainty sip from her teacup. Hermione did her best not to grimace at the mention of her mother. She’d anticipated small talk with Narcissa, but hadn’t considered that she’d dive into her most painful secret immediately. 

“Yes, the last time we did a formal tea like this it was for my grandmother’s birthday. Usually my mum and I go to plays and museums for our mom-daughter outings. Neither of us are particularly good at sitting still.”

“That sounds lovely. She must have fostered your love of learning from a young age with those kinds of trips,” Narcissa sighed wistfully, breaking her eyes off to the window next to them. “I love Draco dearly, but every so often I find myself jealous of mothers who get to do all sorts of feminine things together. It leaves me wanting, I’m afraid. I hope you don’t mind.” Hermione nodded, not wanting to think of her own mother right now, stuck in a magical coma in Australia. “Do you still spend time with your mother?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered quickly, hoping her refusal to elaborate would prompt Narcissa to move to another topic. 

“And you had a happy childhood?” Hermione was put off by the question. She knew of Narcissa Malfoy's reputation as an artful conversationalist, using subtlety as her sword. But now the elegant witch was using bluntness as a weapon, but Hermione couldn’t figure out her goal. To simply unsettle her? To push her away from the Nott fortune and back to her parents? To obtain intimate details she’d pass over to Rita Skeeter? Why would Narcissa Malfoy care about Hermione’s childhood? 

“Yes, very much so. My parents are currently living in Australia. I was lucky enough to spend the last few years with them there, I wanted to be with them after - well, war tends to sort out your priorities,” Hermione paused, letting her gaze linger a bit on Narcissa at her mention of the war. If she meant to unnerve Hermione, the young witch wanted to hold her own. But Narcissa’s unperturbed expression remained intact. “But I haven’t seen them since we got the news two weeks ago.”

“And how did they take the adoption news?”

“I haven’t told them yet,” Hermione looked down at her hands. She sat in silence for a moment, waiting for a reply. When none came, she looked back up at Narcissa, who quirked a pale eyebrow. It surprised Hermione to see this beautiful woman looking like a mirror of her son when she wore that expression. Hermione never thought they looked that similar before, with Draco a carbon copy of his father. And in a flash, she too schooled her face back to the cool indifference she typically wore. 

“Of course, I’m sure there is a lot for you to sort through personally before you bring it to them. I do hope you’ll invite them to the charity ball, if you share it by then. I’d love to meet them.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it. If I have the chance to talk to them prior, I will invite them,” Hermione smiled sweetly, finding comfort in the unlikelihood of that situation. Even if she fixed her parents in time, she would never bring a pair of muggles to Malfoy Manor, no matter how reformed Narcissa claimed to be. 

“Wonderful! Let’s jump into some of the things you’ll need to know for the ball.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, a feeling that would be short lived. “I assume Theo referred you to our etiquette teacher? When do you start?”

“I really don’t think that is necessary. I-”

“Oh Hermione, you must get that scheduled immediately,” Narcissa interrupted, scolding her gently. “I know it seems silly now, but as someone on the other side I can see five different things you are doing right this instant that are undermining you.” Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the comment, looking at her place setting to analyze where she’d gone wrong. “We can’t have that. Once you’ve started the lessons, we will schedule a fitting for both your ball gown and work robes.”

“I’m not going into work at the moment.”

“But eventually you will,” Narcissa brushed off her concern with a perfectly manicured hand. “That brings us to today. I think it would benefit you if we discussed your Diagon Alley duty, as well as your duties to the Nott family, to get you started.” 

Narcissa launched into the various expectations society would have for her, and the obligations she had to the Nott name. While the pair got into a few minor stumbles surrounding the Nott house elves, Narcissa quickly left the topic alone once Hermione mentioned that she and Theo had devised a schedule for the elves. After the pair drained five pots of tea together, they decided to meet again for the fitting in a few weeks. 

“Thank you for indulging an old witch with her desire for feminine companionship,” Narcissa said, patting Hermione’s hand and looking anything but old. “I must say that I’m jealous your mother gets to do this all the time with such lovely company.” Narcissa smiled warmly at her before giving her a nod goodbye. 

“Thank you Narcisssa. I look forward to our next meeting,” Hermione said as she walked away, feeling that lie weigh heavy on her with each step.

The next few weeks blended together as they passed, thankfully free of any more stilted, yet informational meetings with Narcissa. Between working diligently on the updates to the Wolfsbane Act and studying all things their father left behind with Theo, Hermione felt like she finally might be read out. Adding in the sporadic and awkward charity ball planning meetings with Draco in the Nott library and the weekly etiquette lessons with a witch that reminded her too much of Umbridge, Hermione was desperate for a break. 

Since the dinner at the Burrow, Theo had been working on Hermione to convince her to get their closest friends together. Hermione was hesitant, doubtful that they could make it through a dinner without a full blown duel breaking out among their friends. After multiple weeks of begging from Theo, finally Hermione relented. The pair worked to find something private to avoid any headlines, but were stumped on how to keep things from getting too awkward. Finally Hermione, against her best judgement, suggested they have a friendly game of Quidditch. 

“I can’t believe you convinced her to do this,” Harry shook his head in disbelief at Theo, as they stood on the green behind Nott Manor a few days later. 

“It was Hermione’s idea, actually,” Theo’s voice was muffled as he struggled to pull his athletic robes over his head. “She said since everyone except me and her played at Hogwarts, it would be a fun activity.” 

“Hermione being in charge explains the time of the match,” Blaise muttered, looking irritated to be pulled out of bed earlier than 10 in the morning on a Saturday. 

“It’s July! I thought it might be a tad stuffy to play in the afternoon heat,” Hermione said, trying to look cross at his insult. His charming smile in response melted any offense, despite her best effort. “Ginny told me her team always practices earlier in the summer.”

“If you think this is rough Zabini, you should try doing two-a-day practices,” Ginny said, levitating the box of equipment to sit next to him. Hermione admired how tough Ginny looked in her quidditch gear, suddenly feeling silly that she’d worn a sundress while the rest of the group was in their athletic robes.

“Where were you at Hogwarts, Theo? We needed someone to get Hermione excited about quidditch!” Ron slung his arm around Theo, both men chuckling with each other.

“Oi Weasley, I hear your brother is married to that Veela from Beauxbatons! Is that true?”

“I’m shocked Nott even noticed Fleur - I don’t think he looked at her once the entire night when he came over,” Ron laughed. Theo flushed red while the group around him dissolved into snickers. 

“Ron, let’s not forget who made a fool of himself asking her to the Yu-” Ron shut Harry up with a punch to the arm, which did nothing to remove the mischievous grin from Harry’s face. Ginny muffled herself by laughing into Harry’s other shoulder. 

“Draco, way to make a late entrance, mate!” Blaise shouted, looking over the shoulders of the group. Hermione watched the grins slip from the faces of her best friends as they grew on the other two men. The hot summer air around the group cooled immediately as Malfoy walked onto the lawn, lacing up his left glove with his hand and his teeth. 

“Malfoy,” Harry stepped forward, greeting Malfoy with a neutral face. Hermione was surprised at the gesture, given how Harry tended to wear his emotions so clearly. Ron, predictably, was not as friendly, frowning at the wizard. 

“Potter, Weasley...s,” Malfoy added when Ginny popped out from behind Harry. Ginny smiled at him before catching Hermione’s eyes with a “ _ let’s see how this goes _ ” look. Malfoy nodded at his friends before Hermione felt his eyes on her. 

“Not playing with us Granger?” Malfoy asked, looking pointedly at her dress with an amused expression. Hermione cursed her outfit for the second time that morning. 

“I’m the official scorekeeper and referee,” Hermione said, holding up her clipboard and whistle solemnly. The edges of Draco’s lips twitched, but he said nothing in response. 

“Hermione apparently won’t even get on a broom,” Blaise laughed. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the brave ones?” Theo asked.

“She’ll ride a dragon, but a broom is too scary,” Ron said, his eyes twinkling, sending Harry and Ginny into giggles. Theo, Blaise, and Malfoy looked at her in shock. 

“No, surely that part was just a rumor! Right? I thought it was an exaggeration,” Theo yelled. “Hermione?” 

Hermione ignored Theo and looked at her clipboard, putting on her best Madam Hooch impression. “Considering Theo is the only one who did not play in school, I thought he could be paired with Harry and Ginny. That way we could have two Weasley Keepers and match the professional with a novice?”

“If anyone needs the help of a professional, it would be Theo,” Blaise goaded. Theo gave his friend a light shove, while Malfoy shook his head. 

“Right, so one Seeker, one Chaser, one Keeper. Theo and I transfigured the hoops already and made the field slightly shorter given the smaller teams.” Harry wandlessly turned their jerseys red, while Draco turned his team’s green. “Actually, I was thinking of a different color scheme,” Hermione said, quickly turning Harry, Ginny, and Theo’s jerseys blue and Draco, Ron, and Blaise’s jerseys yellow. Hermione fought a smirk when Draco glared at her, but lost the battle. “Oh, yellow is a nice color on you, Malfoy. Do calm down.” 

The game started well. Hermione called out the scores, happily cheering for both sides. Ginny outshined them all, despite trying to downplay her skills, which frustrated Ron from across the field. Harry and Draco spent a majority of the game looking for the snitch, side by side on their brooms, talking occasionally. This was a mark different from their brutal encounters on the pitch at Hogwarts. Hermione decided that pickup games were far preferable to the aggressive and competitive matches she’d watched before. 

As Draco chased the snitch, Ron drove his broom forward, knocking the end of it directly into Malfoy’s shoulder. Draco nearly fell headfirst off his broom, but grabbed the broomstick with one hand before landing on the green. 

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Hermione screamed, running towards the grounded blond. 

“Fuck you, Weasley!” Malfoy roared up at the grinning ginger, cradling his arm. Hermione could see his pained grimace as she made it to him. 

“We are on the same team!” Blaise yelled, jumping off his broom and checking on Malfoy. The rest of the group landed shortly after. 

“Bloody hell!” Ron howled, clutching his arm and glaring at Theo. 

“Oh really now, Theo? Stinging spells? Are we still in school?” Theo had the decency to look sheepish at Hermione’s admonishment. “Blaise? Harry?” The two boys nodded, and grabbed their respective friends by the shoulders, walking them in opposite directions. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’ll go talk to my git of a brother too,” she muttered, stalking off towards him. 

“Are you ok?” she whispered, moving closer to take a look at Malfoy’s shoulder. 

“Do I look ok?” the pale man spit out, shifting away from her. 

“You weren’t terribly good at handling pain in school either were you?” Hermione chuckled, thinking of his over dramatic reaction to Buckbeak. 

“You have no idea how I handle pain,” Malfoy practically growled at her, turning his shoulder away from her. Hermione mentally smacked herself, remembering who he lived with during the war.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” she said softly, to coax him back toward her. “This was supposed to be a way for all our friends to get along,” she continued calmly, still advancing on his injury. “Ronald shouldn’t have done that. He ruined our chance at everyone being civil to each other. Like us.” He stopped inching away and looked at her for a moment, nodding once as a sign that she could help. 

“Would it kill you to have witch friends, Granger? We could’ve gotten drinks at the pub with pretty birds instead,” Draco said loudly as she put her hands on him. He groaned as started mumbling healing spells. 

“Oi!” Ginny yelled from behind them. 

“It’s not like any of them would be interested in you, Malfoy,” Blaise joked from the other side of the field. 

“I’m irresistible,” Draco tossed over his good shoulder, pasting on an arrogant look before wincing again. 

“And so modest,” Hermione teased hesitantly. When he didn’t react, Hermione grabbed his good arm and yanked him up. “Come on, let’s get you to St Mungo’s. We can floo.”

“No, just take me inside and grab my bag,” Malfoy argued. 

“You can’t walk this off,” Hermione chided, rolling her eyes at the unbelievable arrogance of Draco Malfoy. 

“Look, if you could just grab my bag, I have something for this.”

“Skel-grow?” Hermione was surprised he’d have healing supplies on him, but kicked herself for not stocking up before the game. 

“Always so nosy,” he groaned as she lifted him to his feet, though it wasn’t clear if it was from pain or frustration at her. “Not exactly.”

“I’m sorry about Ron,” Hermione said as the pair walked into the manor. 

“You already said that,” Draco dismissed the additional apology as he sat in the sitting room armchair. “He’s always been bloody violent. Though usually it was deserved,” he shrugged as he grabbed a small vial out of the bag next to his feet. 

“What is that?” Hermione looked at the liquid, trying to decipher from the lilac color what it could be. She’d never seen anything healing that color before. 

“Potion of my own design,” he said as he uncapped the vial and downed the contents. She looked at the empty vial for a few moments, trying to figure out what he would’ve made and taken in this instance. As she turned the thoughts over in her head, she caught herself staring at his hands. Much like his mother’s, they were perfectly maintained. But his palms were marred with callouses, likely from broom riding she guessed, and the hand that had caught his fall was a faded cherry from the friction burn. 

“What does it do?” she asked, furrowing her brows as she looked back up at the injured wizard. 

“It heals broken bones faster,” Draco answered as he rolled his shoulder, apparently healed in just a few moments. He turned his wand to heal the gash, but Hermione jumped up to avoid potential complications from self-healing. 

“No, let me,” Hermione said, crouching next to him to heal the cut. She ignored his stunned face, eyebrows arched high in response to her offering to help again. “I didn’t realize that you brewed potions.” Hermione focused on the gash as she guided her wand over it, surprised he was creating anything. She’d assumed he lived off his family money. “I remember you being quite good in class though.”

“Yeah,” Draco replied nonchalantly as he put the empty vial back in his black satchel at his feet. 

“Well, you should share this with someone,” Hermione suggested, staring through the dried blood on his torn sleeve at the shoulder in question, impressed at how quickly the potion had worked. “It could help a lot of people.”

“It’s set to go on the market soon,” Draco looked surprised at her response. 

“Oh, Theo didn’t mention you were starting a business,” Hermione finally stood, moving away with a few steps backwards. Draco stood too, slinging his bag over his shoulder and signaling they should head back outside.

“I’ve had the business since we graduated basically,” Draco said, holding the door open for her. “It’s under a non-descript name so there is no connection to me. It’s called Dragonborn Potions.”

“Wait, I’ve bought that before,” Hermione glanced at him, shocked that Draco was behind the brand. “They are all healing materials, aren’t they?” Draco nodded, eyes trained on the group talking on the field in front of them. “Are you interested in becoming a healer?”

“No, I can’t do that again,” he said quickly with a glance at her. When Hermione cocked her head at him at his use of “again,” he sighed. “I started learning healing to help my parents when the maniac lived with us. But it was too,” Draco looked at his feet as his voice cracked. “I just can’t do that. But potions are easier. You can help people without having to witness their pain.”

She pulled her head skyward as she worked through that new development. Draco Malfoy was helping people anonymously. Draco Malfoy acted as a healer in some capacity during the war and wanted to keep helping people in his free time. Draco Malfoy was, perhaps, a different person than who she remembered. But his horrified face staring at her while she withered on his floor made significantly more sense now. 

“Anyway, thanks for the help.” Draco said as they stepped on the lawn where the rest of the group was waiting. “Theo, Blaise, see you Thursday. Potter, Weasley, good game. And bugger off Weasel.”

“Wait!” Ginny shouted before pushing Ron forward towards Draco. 

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” Ron ground out, looking at the ground. “It was a mistake and I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Draco considered the ginger for a moment. Hermione saw Theo tense, likely bracing himself for the Draco Malfoy verbal beatdown she also expected. 

“Me too,” Draco said with a nod before picking up his broom and apperating away. Hermione caught Blaise and Theo sharing a curious look, indistinguishable to her, but clearly significant. 

“Why’d  _ he _ apologize?” Ron wondered, still looking to the disapperation spot. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. “Perhaps it was a bigger apology,” Hermione started. “Malfoy apologized to me for his past behavior. I think he knows that since I’m around, you two will be around too. Maybe this is a fresh start.”

Ron seemed deep in thought. “Right...” 

“I’m very impressed by your apology, Ron,” Hermione offered with a smile. Though he’d needed a bit of prodding, the Ron from a few years ago never would’ve apologized for hurting Malfoy. 

“Ginny threatened to break her Bat Bogey hex back out if I didn’t,” Ron looked sheepish. “But I do regret it. Old habits die hard, ‘suppose. Sorry Nott, sorry Zabini.”

“Next time we hang out it will be at a bar - and you’ll buy the first round,” Theo slapped him on the back, eager to put the ordeal behind them. 

“And if we ever play quidditch again, I want the other Weasley on my team,” Blaise muttered, making everyone but Ron laugh. 

“That could have gone better,” Theo said hours later after everyone went home, handing her one of the two butterbeers he held in the Nott library. 

“It also could’ve gone much worse,” Hermione countered, remembering their encounter with Malfoy during the Battle of Hogwarts and taking a sip. 

“Did you even take a break from the journals? This must be your third read through at least,” Theo motioned to the books stacked next to her as he took a seat. 

“It is my fourth actually. I’m just getting so frustrated!” Hermione slammed the book down, harder than she meant to. “We’ve been through all of his belongings! We’ve spelled them for hidden messages. Did my biological mother mean so little to him that he couldn’t be bothered to mention her? Did I mean so little that there is nothing, no mention?” Hermione’s voice cracked as she unleashed her frustration. “And no jotted down notes of memory spells either. It’s been months of this now!” 

“Considering he was cheating on my mother, I’m glad he wasn’t writing love poems in the margins,” Theo muttered, causing Hermione gasp in embarrassment about her insensitive rant. “Sorry,” he added quickly, running his hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. “I don’t know where that came from.” 

“We can chalk it up to the stress of today's events,” Hermione said, giving him an apologetic look. “But I do understand. We haven’t really talked about the role of my mother in all of this and focused on the memory charm instead. I want to get Mum, my real mum, back so badly. But a few weeks ago Malfoy said something, and I’ve just been wondering where my biological mother fits in here. Sorry for upsetting you.”

“I understand,” Theo said, grabbing her hand and squeezing twice. “We will figure her out next. But if these journals aren’t helping, maybe we can burn them and say goodbye to the bastard for good.”

“Theo!” Hermione scoffed at the idea of destroying the final clues he had into their father’s twisted mind.

“Fine,” Theo conceded. “I knew that’d set you off. Perhaps just get the frustration out a different way?” Theo cocked a dark eyebrow, looking mischievous. 

“What do y-” Hermione was cut off when Theo grabbed a journal from the table between them and threw it, full force, at the wall behind him. 

“Theo! Stop!” Hermione balled up her fists and put them on her hips, like she did when she scolded Harry and Ron when they were still in school.

“No!” Theo said as he threw two more, grinning like a maniac as he did. 

“I never!” gasped a naked goddess from a painting from the adjoined wall. “Rude little shite.”

“One more?” Theo asked, holding out a journal to her. Hermione dithered for a moment, trying to ignore her inner voice lecturing her on treating books well in favor of a bonding opportunity with her brother. She took the book and chucked it at the wall with all her might, feeling a bit of the weight on her chest lift. 

“Excuse me!” the painting yelled again, prompting the pair to double over with laughter. When they caught their breath a few minutes later, Hermione wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes and walked over to pick up the journals. As she did, a page hanging out from one of the journals caught her eye. That internal voice that warned her before was now lecturing her on the consequences of mishandling books. As she bent down to pick it up, she realized it wasn’t a page from a journal at all. Hermione snatched the parchment up and practically ripped it open. 

“Theo! Come here - this letter fell out of one of the books!” Hermione waved him over, still looking over the parchment. 

“How? Didn’t you read all of them?” 

“I think it must’ve been hidden with a notice-me-not spell or something. We can figure that out later. But look here. It is written in runes, which we can translate. And this rune here is a slightly altered one, but I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?” Theo asked excitedly, practically jumping up and down. 

“In this library...somewhere...” Hermione trailed off as she looked at the book lined walls, realizing she’d at least flipped through nearly all the books the library held. She sighed as she looked at her brother, who was starting to lose some of that enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a long night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a LONG one, so thanks for sticking it out if you are reading this. The tea scene was too short to be its own chapter. Hope you enjoyed!


	10. New Things With The Malfoys

Though she’d nearly translated the letter, Hermione found several inconsistent runes in addition to the first one she’d identified. Given that runes change their meaning depending on what they are surrounded by, these missing puzzle pieces frustrated Hermione. It was clearly a letter, one hiding something in runes and possibly an encrypted code. Whatever that something was had to be important. She scoured the library, finding the original rune she picked out as being off after a harrowing day of pulling nearly all the books in the library from their shelves. It marked a page for a dark curse, one that would have to end in a painfully slow death. Hermione was especially perplexed when she revisited the letter and realized this mystery rune was next to the rune for prophecy. 

After analyzing the letter for a week, Hermione’s hope dwindled, concerned that this was a red herring she’d devoted too much time to when she could’ve been focused elsewhere. Perhaps this dark curse was one her biological father had identified for his unsavoury purposes, and this really had nothing to do with her. She considered moving back to her original research until one day she stared at the letter so long, her vision blurred and one of the unidentifiable runes looked a bit like someone added two dashes to the rune for child. 

Since that day a few weeks ago, Hermione spent most of her free time trying to find any clues she could to break the code. She’d been doing it nearly alone now too, with Theo’s time being consumed by a certain blonde witch. Hermione couldn’t complain though, she loved seeing her friends happy and she enjoyed the research. She just needed to catch Theo to actually update him on her potential progress. But today’s activities would cut into that progress. She sighed, tucking the letter back into her as she approached the shop. Madam Dupont’s was just off Diagon Alley, with no sign out front nor a door. As she stepped closer to figure out how to get in, a pleasant melody chimed and the door opened for her. Looking around curiously to figure out how the magic worked, a familiar delicate laugh caught her ear. 

“Good morning, Hermione,” Narcissa, impeccably dressed in glamorous emerald robes, greeted as Hermione walked through the door. The older witch was already seated on the purple loveseat in the middle of the small shop, holding a teacup and saucer. As someone who was perpetually early, Hermione found herself frustrated that she could never seem to beat Narcissa to their meetups. The blonde patted the spot next to her, with a graceful smile playing at her lips. “I’m so excited for today. The ladies here will take fine care of you. Madam Dupont, we are ready,” Narcissa beckoned an older witch, petite and stern under a mess of brown hair piled on her head. 

“Oui, Madam,” the woman nodded, jumping to action. She snapped twice and two younger women came out of the back, levitating several gowns behind them. “Tea?” The seamstress asked Hermione in her heavy French accent. When Hermione declined with the delicate head shake she’d learned in her etiquette lessons, the woman gestured to the gowns. “Do any of these suit your fancy?” While Madam Dupont was clearly asking Hermione, she looked at Narcissa, who stood to examine them. The elegant witch took her time looking between the floating gowns, before motioning to the emerald gown, silky and slinky. Narcissa looked to Hermione for her input. 

“Oh, erm,” Hermione looked it over for a moment, although she knew immediately she’d never wear it. “No, no green for me. Thank you.”

“No, I imagine not,” Narcissa said, looking amused. “Why not this?” The witch asked, gesturing to a lavender number with a deep plunging neckline. Hermione wrinkled her nose before she could stifle the reaction, causing Narcissa to laugh quietly. “Very well, I suppose I agree. Why don’t you tell me which you like best instead?” 

Hermione nodded, standing to look over each dress. After passing over four very revealing gowns, she stopped at a modest black ball gown with long sleeves and a full skirt. “What about this one?” Hermione asked. Narcissa frowned over Hermione’s shoulder without creating any wrinkles on her face, prompting Hermione to wonder if she spelled herself to do that. 

“My darling girl, you’re in your twenties. Let’s get you something a bit more age appropriate. You’ve got to flaunt what you’ve been blessed with,” Narcissa said, in a tone that vaguely reminded her of Tonks, though much more subdued. Narcissa called forward a particularly racy red dress that made Hermione blush just seeing it in the air. Perhaps this ease was something that ran in the Black family. 

“You’re nearly as bad as Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed in surprise, causing Narcissa to softly giggle again. “I could never wear that. I don’t have the body to fill that out.” 

“Please,” Narcissa shook her head. “What have we said before during these talks? Modesty is an appealing trait, but it is only to be brought out to be leveraged properly. You must take ownership and pride over your talents. I know your brain is the asset you are proudest of, and rightfully so. But do not discount your body. It has often been my greatest weapon, especially with wizards who will never get more than they see,” Narcissa said patiently, as though Hermione was learning a concept in Charms, rather than manipulation. Hermione scoffed a bit. It made sense that a witch as beautiful as Narcissa would be able to wield her looks. But no one thought of Hermione that way. 

“Most women look much like their mothers,” Narcissa continued, now lightly scolding Hermione. “Thinking so negatively of your own body is like an insult to her’s.” Hermione looked down, embarrassed. The truth was, she didn’t have her mother’s body. Instead she looked like some stranger she had no connection to. “Even if that body isn’t the one that birthed you, it still took care of you and loved you. I’m sure Dr. Granger would agree that you are a stunning young beauty. But, perhaps we can find some middle ground,” Narcissa acquiesced, shooting a look towards Madam Dupont. She sent her girls to the back and they brought out only one dress this time. It was a slinky purple dress with a high neckline and no sleeves. “Well?”

“I could try this one on,” Hermione mumbled, ready for this shopping ordeal to end. As she slipped the purple gown on in the dressing room she realized it was backless, but that the cut actually quite suited her. The high neckline still showed off her clavicle, which Hermione thought was rather attractive, and the dress wasn’t too tight while still highlighting her bum. The backless dress was a bit more daring than anything she’d worn previously, but she thought that Narcissa was right: she was young, she should enjoy something that was a little less modest than she was used to. As she stepped out of the room, Narcissa’s face lit up. “Do you think we could alter it to be gold?” Hermione asked the seamstress, who looked offended by the question. 

“Of course,” the seamstress huffed, quickly grabbing her wand to start the transfiguration. 

“Hermione, that is perfect,” Narcissa ‘s cool voice floated over the older witch’s shoulder. “No one will be able to resist the Lady Nott Granger - or her fundraising requests,” Narcissa said with a wink. “Madam Dupont, please put this on my account.”

“Oh Narcissa, I can’t let you pay for this! You’ve already been so generous with your time and insights.”

“Consider it a gift - it is typical for families to present gifts on the day of a baby’s birth. I didn’t get you a birthday gift. So, how about a formal presentation gift? Now we can move onto work robes.”

“Thank you. Truly,” Hermione smiled up at her tutor, aware that she no longer felt like she had to be on the defensive with her at all times. “With a dress like this, Ginny is going to be over the moon.”

“Is Miss Weasley a troublemaker? I can’t imagine Mister Potter’s betrothed to be too over the top,” Narcisssa said, pulling out work robes from the floating options for Hermione to try on. 

“She can be, but it is mostly good natured. Ginny likes to see her friends happy, so she’ll push them. Present company included.”

“That reminds me of my best friend at Hogwarts, Harper. She was my roommate, so we got into all sorts of trouble. Draco and Theo were - well, still are that way. I’m sure you and Miss Weasley are too.”

“Hopefully not too much. I’m a bit worried about how she’ll be at the ball. She is eager to set me up with someone,” Hermione said with a laugh. Her mirth died on her lips at the interested look Narcissa gave her. Swallowing hard, Hermione turned away and pretended that a set of maroon work robes were especially enticing. Perhaps remembering to keep her guard up a little bit more around Narcissa wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Why don’t you bring Miss Weasley to the manor before the ball? I’d already arranged for a team to help the two of us prepare. You two could indulge an old witch with some girl time, like the good old days,” Narcissa suggested sweetly, though Hermione knew that this was no request. 

“I’m sure she’d jump at the invitation,” Hermione lied with a smile at the older witch. “Will your friend be joining us at the charity ball? I’d love to meet anyone who could get you into trouble.”

“No, she passed away a long time ago,” Narcissa said without emotion, though the wistful look she wore made Hermione feel a pang of sympathy. “But I try to make a little trouble now and then to carry on her legacy. Perhaps Miss Weasley will be that person for you. Don’t fight her too hard on the opportunity to be set up. You’re young, beautiful, and in very high demand, so I’m told,” Narcissa raised both eyebrows gracefully at the suggestion before handing Hermione a few robes and pushing her to the changing room. 

Hermione pondered Narcissa’s words hours later as she walked through the floo to Draco’s house. Though she never considered herself a troublemaker, there were many people she loved who fit that description. She thought of Fred, of Tonks, of Remus, of Sirius. Tonks, Sirius, and Fred would certainly encourage her to get into at least a little trouble at this ball. Perhaps even Remus, one of her favorite professors, would encourage her to open her heart to finding someone, like he had with Tonks. She sighed, stepping out into a nearly empty room. She looked around, confused at the sight of the plain, empty room, and decided to go look for Draco. 

“Malfoy?” Hermione called quietly as she tiptoed down the dark hallway before seeing a cracked door, with light pooling out of it. “Draco?” She called his name again as she cracked the door open again. His blond head was focused above a cauldron, tight shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. She could see the Dark Mark, which caused her to draw a sharp breath of surprise. He apparently hadn’t heard her before because as soon as she did, he knocked the cauldron he was hunched over, spilling the contents across himself and the floor. 

“Fuck! Bloody hell, Granger!” Draco yelled, looking up at her and back down at the mess. “Fuck, you scared me,” he added, in a much calmer voice. “Can you give me a minute to clean this up?”

“Sorry, I’ll wait in your, er, living room,” she said as she turned and walked back towards the room she entered through. As she waited, she thought about the intensity with which he was working and wondered what potion she’d just ruined. As he entered the room a few minutes later, she realized he’d shed his casual work clothing for a set of dark robes. “I’m so sorry about that Malfoy. Do you need help with cleaning up?”

“No,” Malfoy said sharply, glaring at her with suspicion. “I thought I was coming to Nott Manor in an hour. What are you doing here? Did Theo finally come to his senses and kick you out?” Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes with his last sentence, but the rest of his face remained neutral. 

“In a way, I suppose,” Hermione smiled, causing him to cock his head slightly in interest. “He needed the manor tonight because he has a date,” she added, thinking of the over the top dinner Theo was planning for Luna.

“The mystery witch,” Draco sighed, his face softening and his stance relaxing. Hermione nodded, surprised Theo still hadn’t told his best friend about Luna. “He’s always been secretive about courting. Blaise and I had a bet for a few years that he wasn’t going to be attracted to anyone,” he chuckled. 

“Someone’s sexuality is a horrid thing to make a bet about,” Hermione scolded, crossing her arms over her chest. “That is appalling.”

“We were 13,” Draco shrugged with a lopsided grin. “We made bets about everything.” Hermione rolled her eyes quickly, but was still curious. 

“What made you stop the bet?”

“I,” Draco started before he coughed into his fist to regain some composure, “I made a wand vow not to reveal anything that happened that night. All I can say is a post-quidditch truth or dare game got a little out of control in the common room and everyone became very aware of how much Theo likes women.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as he fought a smirk. Her curiosity was screaming, but the idea of hearing anything sexual about Theo was revolting. The disgust won out. “And any discoveries about yourself or Blaise?” 

Draco cocked an eyebrow, looking surprised yet amused by her interest. “Asking a former Death Eater about his secrets? That is a dangerous game, Granger.” After a low chuckle, he added, “I can assure you we both like witches as well, if that’s your question. Though Blaise is more flexible.” Hermione rolled her eyes again, though this time she made it quite obvious to him she was doing it. 

“So this is where you live?” Hermione asked, hoping to change the subject away from hearing anything about Draco Malfoy’s sex life. Looking around, she considered that the house didn’t feel like a home. It was bare and sparsely decorated, with sterile white walls. It felt so unlike the opulence of Malfoy Manor. “It looks a lot different from Blaise’s house. A lot different from Malfoy Manor too, I suppose. I just expected you to live in grandeur,” she emphasized the last word, gesturing to his well tailored clothing. 

“You went to Blaise’s house?” Draco asked, ignoring her comments about his appearance. 

“Yes, he has some ancient scrolls he thought I’d be interested in,” Hermione shrugged, confused why the blond would care. “It was truly a pleasure, though I can’t understand why they are in his home and not in a museum for the rest of the world to see.” Draco rolled his eyes at her response. 

“Of course. That is one of his go to moves, especially with smart witches. Watch yourself there, Granger. Zabini is one of my closest mates - 

“Don’t you mean only?” Hermione shot back, unable to miss the opportunity. But he did not react, only charging forward with his thought. 

“He can be shifty with pursuing witches. And wizards, for that matter. Be careful,” Draco warned solemnly. Hermione felt like she shouldn’t joke about it, so she simply nodded. “To answer your question, when I moved into the cottage I spelled it to be blank, so I could make it my own. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. But if you come with me,” Draco said as he started walking down the hall, “you may prefer to work in my other room.” He stopped in front of a closed door and as soon as she was behind him, Draco opened it to reveal a library, charmed to extend far past the length of the house. Hermione gasped at the sight of it, causing Draco to give a low chuckle. 

“Since you’re unceremoniously early, I assume you’ll be okay in here until our agreed upon time?” Hermione blushed, embarrassed she hadn’t even floo called prior. Theo had made it sound like popping around to Draco’s was a normal thing to do. “I have a few things to wrap up in my workspace.” She nodded, before eagerly turning back to the room. She browsed the shelves, fighting the temptation to pull and stack the most interesting ones by reminding herself exactly who she’d be asking to borrow from. 

She’d made it through three quarters of the room before a low voice interrupted her. “See something that interests you?” Draco asked from behind her, so close she could smell his spiced cologne. She whirled around, now face to face to the tall wizard looming over her, and let out a small squeak of surprise. 

“Ah, yes,” Hermione said softly, side stepping away from him and hoping he didn’t hear her motifying reaction. “You have quite the collection here,” she added, with more confidence in her voice now that there was some space between them. “There are a few tomes I’m shocked the Ministry didn’t confiscate after the war.”

“Too busy with things from the manor, I’d wager. Bit of a treasure trove there,” Draco said cynically before holding up a folder she recognized from their past few ball planning sessions. “Shall we? Only a few more details to hammer out and then your precious nights will be free again. How your books shall rejoice.”

“My nights?” Hermione asked as they sat down at the table next to the large windows. “I assumed you’d be fair more concerned about your own. How your only three friends shall rejoice.” When Draco looked confused, she supplied, “Your Mother is your third friend, Malfoy.” He narrowed his eyes at her as she giggled. 

“Well, at least I-” Malfoy was cut off by the crack of apparition next to him. 

“Tippy is bringing the fresh pressed robes for Master’s meeting with the La - oh Master is having company! Master never is having company. Tippy is sorry to intrude,” the house elf wrung the robes between her hands as she looked nervously between Draco and Hermione. 

“It’s quite alright, Tippy,” Malfoy said, standing and placing a hand on the elf’s shoulder gently as if to calm her. Hermione watched the gesture curiously, thinking of her late friend Dobby. “Thank you so much for bringing me the robes. There was a last minute change in plans, so my meeting came to me instead.” The big watery eyes of the elf looked past him to Hermione. Hermione gave her a small wave, which seemed to shock the little elf. 

“Hello Tippy. My name is Hermione Granger, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Hermione introduced herself before extending a hand. 

“Oh the Lady Nott Granger, Tippy is being excited to meet you,” the elf said excitedly, grabbing her hand and jumping up and down with each shake. Hermione giggled, giving her a big smile. “Very pretty, very pretty indeed,” Tippy muttered, looking pointedly at Draco, who promptly flushed bright pink. Hermione giggled at the sight of his pale skin such a bright color, but found that she enjoyed the way it made him look. He seemed rather charming. 

“Thank you, Tippy!” Malfoy said loudly, staring at the elf with wide eyes. Hermione thought this was the closest she’d seen Malfoy to embarrassment since their reacquittance. “ _That_ will be enough.” The elf winked cheekily at him before disapperating, causing him to scrub his face with his hands a few times. After getting over her amusement, she pinned Draco with an angry look.

“What, Granger?” Draco asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. 

“A house elf? Really? I thought you had to free them as part of your arrangement,” Hermione said, drumming her fingers at the table, irritated that the elites could get away with this treatment even after the war. 

“Oh come off it, Granger,” Draco said, clearly annoyed. “We all remember - what was it? ICK? SPOUT? SPEW? Whatever that disaster was called,” Malfoy laughed, waving the names away with a hand motion. 

“It was S.P.E.W., thank you very much,” Hermione huffed, glaring at him. 

“She was offered freedom, but refused it. We pay her now. I’m glad she didn’t leave, she is, uh, well she is part of the family really,” Draco said softly, glancing at her hesitantly. Hermione was surprised by the answer, but it clarified why the elf was so outspoken with Draco. 

“As long as she is treated better than Dobby,” she whispered, watching him intently. He paled, that lovely shade of pink gone from his cheeks. 

“He was Father’s personal elf. I would never -”

“Will you check the names of those who RSVPed yes and I will write the final checklist of to do actions for us these final weeks?” Hermione interrupted, sensing Draco’s sincerity and vulnerability about the topic. She wanted to keep things civil, after all. Draco nodded, visibly thankful to move to another topic, and the pair got to work. Once she finished, she looked up to ask Draco how much he had left. Instead she found him staring at her, his gray eyes dancing with amusement. 

“You write slowly,” Malfoy sighed, thought she could see he was entertained under this little act of boredom. “I’ve been done for ages.” Hermione rolled her eyes before she copied the list with her wand. 

“Well _thank you_ for your dedication to the wizarding world’s werewolves,” Hermione said sarcastically as she handed him the copy. “So thrilled to have you on the team. You’re really showing what an asset you are. No wonder Theo keeps you around.”

“You know, Theo is happier than he has ever been,” Draco commented abruptly as he looked over the list, avoiding her eyes. Hermione was surprised again by his candor. She considered him before realizing it was likely after something. Perhaps this was his way of asking about Luna, which Hermione wouldn’t share. 

“Well I am hardly the only reason,” Hermione offered up, wondering if she should disclose her brother’s secret. 

“The company he is entertaining then?” Hermione gave a noncommittal shrug, but knew she was beaming despite herself. Draco rolled his jaw at her silence, but kept talking. “I’m thankful to you, though,” Draco forced out, still studying the to do list she’d provided. She felt the corners of her mouth turn up in amusement at the great effort it took for Draco to be kind to her. 

“For what?” She asked, curious if he’d share more. At that, Draco finally looked back up at her. 

“I suppose for existing,” he said simply. His eyebrows pinched for just a second, and Hermione would’ve missed the annoyed look that crossed his face if she hadn’t been watching her. He quickly smoothed himself out. “What I mean to say is, I am thankful that you appeared in Theo’s life this way. He did not have an easy childhood, as I am sure he’s shared.” Hermione felt herself soften a bit, surprised that this conversation had veered from inquisition to compliment. 

“He has shared enough for me to understand that I got the better end of the deal,” Hermione said sadly, fiddling with her quill. 

“Well, you had a rather difficult go of it if I recall. Most of it at my hand,” Draco said as he ran his hand through his hair. Hermione was surprised he was willing to revisit the topic and gave him an understanding nod. His face was unreadable, making her more anxious. 

“I meant with my parents. When I was a child,” Hermione said, now studying her own list. 

“Did they tell you anything about the adoption? When you told them about this all, I mean,” Draco was watching her when she looked up. She registered a brief shock and gratitude to her brother for not sharing her secret, even with his best friend. 

“They can’t,” Hermione said quickly, shocking herself as she stared into his steel eyes. While she found it so easy to lie to Narcissa about this very topic weeks ago, suddenly she very much wanted to tell Draco what was going on with her parents.“I erased their memories of me before the war and moved them out of the country,” the confession tumbled out of her mouth before she thought to stop it. Hermione’s stomach dropped at the realization that she’d shared something so personal with Draco Malfoy. She’d only told three people about her situation, discounting the Weasleys and the medical staff. 

“To keep them safe? Clever,” Draco commented, still studying her. “And brutal. I’m rather impressed,” he offered as he returned his gaze to the papers in front of them. “So you were unable to reverse it?”

“My current hypothesis is they had already been significantly altered to include me due to the adoption. When I erased myself, I complicated their mental state. I’ve been searching for a cure. That is what Theo and I have been looking for, why we are so focused on our father’s journal. Not my biological mother. I just need to find a solution,” Hermione said, feeling a sense of relief wash over her with each word. She was shocked at how comfortable she was sharing something so private with someone who she hated. It should’ve been unsettling, but the more she said, the less uncomfortable she was.

“I’m sure you’ll find a better solution for your parents than Theo did for your father,” Draco let out a cruel laugh as dropped the paper and looked at her expectantly. 

“What do you mean?” Draco started at the question, before quickly shuttering himself and making his face cold to her. Hermione realized he’d said something he shouldn’t. When he didn’t respond, his face growing darker with each silent second, she grabbed her papers and stood up. “Thanks for meeting with me, Malofy. Especially when I showed up here with no warning. I think we should be good on meeting until the week of the ball. You have all the action items there. I will see you then,” Hermione said quickly before turning and darting out of the room. She didn’t look back, but she knew he’d let her leave without comment. 

Her thoughts were racing as she stepped through the floo to Nott Manor. Their father had died during the war - at the final battle she’d thought. Theo hadn’t wanted to discuss it in too much detail, and Hermione wasn’t especially keen on it either, with her own parents as her first priority. He’d really only talked about their father killing Theo’s mother. Her mind wandered back to the dark curse she’d see in the letter. Perhaps she was not the child mentioned in the letter after all. Hermione decided she’d have to fully translate the blasted thing before bringing up any of her suspicions to her brother, who she realized she might not know as well as she thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet and a lot happening here- thanks for sticking with me! What do you think of the mysterious letter? Or what Draco slipped out?


	11. Restless

Draco was awake. Draco was  _ still _ bloody awake. After tossing and turning seemingly endlessly, he growled in annoyance and cast a wordless tempus. It was 2:37AM when Draco threw off the covers and sat up in bed, restless and frustrated. Hermione Granger was depriving him sleep and not in the way he’d like a witch to be. Rather than spending the night keeping him awake in bed, she’d taken up an uninvited residency in his head. Not that he’d want the know-it-all of the century in his bed anyway. 

But even after taking a Calming Draught, the witch was like an apparition; she was something in the corners of his eyes that he couldn’t quite see, but still ever present. Their entire evening had been strange, which Draco knew was the reason she was loitering in her brain like an unwelcome solicitor. When Granger showed up, uninvited and early, she shocked him, ruining his third trial for his experimental potion. Her claim that Theo was entertaining company was slightly suspicious, but her presumption that she could floo over without invitation screamed up to something. Draco wondered if she was there to snoop instead, given her incessant nosiness and history of snooping at school. He locked Granger in the library, unknown to her, while he went back to clean up his wasted efforts and make notes on the lack of progress he’d made. After finishing, he returned to the library ready for her to hex him for locking her in. Instead, he found her totally engrossed in examining his bookshelves; her reputation as a swot was truly unparalleled. He stopped in the doorway and watched as the petite witch slowly moved from shelf to shelf, clearly fighting the urge to pick up the ones that interested her.

But that wasn’t the part of their evening that kept replaying in his head, keeping him awake. It was the uncomfortably blatant conversation, which he started. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to thank her, let alone so overtly. And in turn, her extremely personal confession about her parents unnerved him. Draco couldn’t understand why the witch would share something like that with him of all people. He thought of the torment he’d gone through with his own parents, their lives hanging in the balance when Draco had been tasked to kill Dumbledore. He had been weak on all accounts, a coward. She, on the other hand, had made the tough decision to protect the people she loved no matter the cost. They could not be more different. 

Or that is what he spent most of his night thinking as he stared into the darkness while sleep eluded him. As he pulled off the covers and wordlessly brightened the room, his eyes landed on the watch his father gave him sitting on the nightstand. He immediately thought of his father in Azkaban, and realized they both knew what it was like to lose a parent to the war without them dying. Perhaps she knew he struggled with that on some level and felt like he could empathize. 

But the worst part of their bizarre evening was his own slip-up, which would sporadically pop into the front of his mind every so often as he reflected on the night, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Assuming Theo had shared everything with her was a foolish error he usually wouldn’t make. Draco noted with great irritation that Hermione Granger got under his skin and reverted him back to the reactive and impulsive little boy he was when they met. 

Resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to find sleep, he trudged back down the library and began to pull out every book he thought would help with memory charms. As he sat down and cracked open the first in the stack, he swore for a moment he could smell the vanilla in her perfume. Draco shook his head and forced himself to focus on the words on the page in front of him. Perhaps he could do something for Granger that no one could do for him: return her parents, fully mentally intact. Helping her could bridge their strange relationship from civil to friendly, and could help make amends to Theo for speaking out of turn. 

_ Tap-tap-tap _ . Draco cracked a single eye before shutting it quickly, the early morning light shocking him. Trying again, he opened both eyes and found himself staring into the large eyes of an owl tapping on the window. Draco picked head up from his makeshift pillow, an open book, and immediately felt the crick in his neck. Theo’s tawny brown owl waited patiently with a scroll of parchment tied around his leg. As Draco reached for it, the owl nipped him, looking for treats. “Cheeky bugger,” Draco muttered, snagging a treat from the bowl by the window before opening the parchment. 

_ Draco,  _

_ Come by for a casual lunch in the kitchens today. I have someone I’d like you to meet. _

_   
_ _ Theo _

_ P.S. - Hermione will be joining us as well, so please play nicely _

He paused at the post script, wondering if Granger confronted Theo last night over their father. There were several secrets between the Draco and Theo that they’d sworn to take to the grave, including the events of the night Draco took the Dark Mark, the day of Nott Senior’s death, and the one time Blaise had been so blackout drunk he’d tried with a surprising amount of effort to instigate a threesome that neither Draco nor Theo was particularly interested in. Well, both of them were a little interested, but that was part of why it was going to the grave. These were secrets that they vowed would be buried forever, unspoken even when alone. Instead, Draco had dropped enough of a hint that even someone as dense as the Weasel could sort it out, let alone Granger, who could be an absolute bloodhound when it came to hunting down something she wanted. Draco wondered if this lunch summons was some coded message to relay Theo’s anger or a convoluted way for Theo to tell Draco that he’d cut him out for good because Granger couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Draco stewed as he reread the short invitation, unhappily picturing the different scenes that could have played out last night at Nott Manor. 

A long shower and a few hours later, he walked through the floo towards the kitchen. As he walked in, he spotted Granger in the corner chatting with a gaggle of house elves. He immediately noticed that she was wearing that blue sundress again; the one from the disastrous pickup Quidditch game. Outside of the Yule Ball, he hadn’t seen the figure Hermione Granger usually hid under robes or in loose muggle clothing. At the pickup game, he’d struggled to keep his eyes off her, exploring the curves the dress revealed from his spot safe in the air. Now he found himself in the same predicament, which, given how little they liked each other and how she’d probably destroyed his friendship with Theo last night, was especially frustrating. He cleared his throat softly, causing her to whip around. She gave him a soft smile and quick wave as she walked towards him. 

“Granger, do you know what is going on? I got a letter from Theo this morning demanding that I come for lunch.” Hermione only shrugged in response, the skirt of her dress rising just above her knees as she did. Draco internally cursed that he even noticed, forcing himself to inspect his fingernails instead. “Don’t have another mystery sister to introduce, do you?”

“Not exactly,” she replied with a touch of humor in her voice. Draco tensed, realizing his fear was right. She’d shared with Theo what he’d promised not to tell and she was enjoying holding it over him. 

“Did you tell him what I sai-” Draco was cut off by his friend’s entrance. Theo practically bounced through the door before stopping in the doorway when spotting Draco and beaming. 

“Draco! You made it. Lord Malfoy, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Lovegood.” Draco felt his stomach drop at the sight of the witch on Theo’s arm. If there was anyone who should like him less than Granger for events that happened at Malfoy Manor, it would be Luna Lovegood. 

“Oh, we know each other,” Luna said absentmindedly, wearing a dreamy smile. “It's nice to see you again, Draco. You look well. No more wrackspurts I see.” 

“Hello, Luna,” Draco shifted awkwardly, training his eyes on the wall directly behind her, unwilling to make eye contact with the blonde. Her eyes had always unnerved him, large, protruding, and unyielding. Draco was conflicted; clearly Hermione hadn’t yet told Theo what he’d said, which Draco was thankful for. However, there was little chance he would be able to navigate this lunch without someone mentioning how Draco and Theo’s new beloved knew each other, which he calculated would play out disastrously.

“I didn’t realize you two were already acquainted,” Theo said, clapping his hands once in excitement. He guided Luna to the small table in the kitchen corner and pulled out a seat for her. Draco and Hermione moved to sit down too. “It seems like I missed out on a lot at Hogwarts, stuck in that dungeon of our’s.” Draco nodded, trying to avoid wincing when he said the word dungeon. “Luna and I met a few weeks ago. She interviewed us about Hermione becoming a Nott and we’ve been seeing each other ever since.” When the house elves set plates down in front of them silently, Draco silently thanked the Gods for allowing him something else to look at. 

“I read it, the Quibbler, right?” Luna nodded happily. “I picked that issue up. It was very well written and full of, eh, interesting information.” Draco wracked his brain to come up with a compliment for the article, which included quite a lot more about Theo than Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Hermione’s shoulders moving up and down as she looked down at her plate. Perhaps she also found Luna’s inclusion of the creatures in Nott Manor ridiculous. 

“Yes, Luna has been educating me on all sorts of creatures. I feel like we never got the proper Magical Creatures education with Hagrid.”

“He is a lovely man, but was a bit of a joke as a teacher,” Luna added. Draco scoffed in agreement. Hermione again caught his eye as she bit her bottom lip, looking desperate to keep a thought in. “ _ Hagrid _ ,” Draco realized after a moment, knowing he was coming close to upsetting the balance of their delicate civility agreement. “ _ She is friends with him. Fuck. _ ” Suddenly the memory of the Buckbeak situation resurfaced in his mind and he tried to push it back down as Theo started talking again. 

“Anyway, I would have never known about the nargle infestation. Luna’s made us talismen to hang around the property to help,” Theo said, beaming. Draco watched the interaction with curiosity. He’d never seen Theo like this with any witch, so confident and calm. Perhaps Loony was a rather good development. 

“That’s thoughtful,” Draco said. “You can never be too careful,” he added, hoping he sounded sincere in his interest in these imaginary creatures. 

“Malfoy Manor also has an infestation of nargles, at least in the basement it did. Perhaps we could help Draco with that when we’re done here,” Luna suggested sweetly before popping some fries into her mouth. He felt his stomach twist at her words, thinking of how thin she’d looked when he’d come home for Easter break that year. Draco closed his eyes, preparing himself for what would come next. 

“When were you in the basement of Malfoy Manor?” Theo asked, puzzled as he looked between Luna and Draco. 

“During my sixth year,” Luna said simply. “I stayed there with Mr. Ollivander.”

“You - you were there during the war?” The color drained from Theo’s face as he looked at Luna with muted horror. 

“Yes, for a few months. Draco was quite kind to me when he was home from Hogwarts. He snuck down snacks and even played Exploding Snap with me a few times,” Luna gave Draco an appreciative grin, which unleashed an onslaught of guilt within him. They hadn’t spoken of her time in his home following the war, save for when she visited him during his house arrest following the Battle of Hogwarts and he’d begged for her forgiveness. She’s given it easily, saying she’d never had cause to be upset with him. 

“Draco?” Theo asked, his voice dangerously low. He turned to his friend, his usually warm brown eyes sparking with accusations. 

“Theo, you know what that year was like for me,” Draco started gravely, desperate to appeal to his friend’s logic. “I didn’t want to keep her there anymore than she wanted to be there. I ev-”

“Keep her there?” Theo asked, his volume increasing with each word. “Luna? Luna was the girl in the dungeon? The girl yo- the girl you  _ tortured _ ?” Theo shot out of his seat, pushing his chair back with such force that it clattered loudly on the ground. As he made his move towards Draco, Luna placed her hand tenderly on Theo’s forearm to stop him. Draco gave a single grim nod of affirmation to Theo as he stared questioningly at him. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why wasn’t it brought up during the trial?” Theo asked, clearly struggling to keep calm. 

“Luna didn’t press charges,” Draco said quietly. “You know I had to, Theo. I couldn’t let the alternative happen. I still regret everything I did, you know that, don’t you?” Draco could feel himself starting to babble urgently. Theo squeezed his eyes shut as Draco spoke, tensing his entire body. “And I did tell you, at the time. I just - you didn’t know her. And I had no idea you two were - I would have said something immediately if I ha-”

“Theo,” Luna’s honeyed voice said his name sweetly, calling his attention away from Draco. “Hermione mentioned she spotted a moon frog by the pond. Why don’t we take a walk and look for it?” Theo nodded, huffing out a deep breath. “We’ll be back,” Luna said as she walked him out of the kitchen. Draco watched them go, frozen in shock at the exchange. 

“That was the first time I’ve seen Theo mad,” Hermione broke the uncomfortable silence, her voice reminding him of her presence. Draco rubbed his temples, focusing on steadying his breathing. The fact that Granger had heard this disastrous exchange made him even more embarrassed, though he couldn’t place a finger on why. She knew Luna was at Malfoy Manor because Granger and her friends helped save her, so it was no surprise. Perhaps it was just the additional reminder that of his past he was concerned about - another reason for her to hate him. 

“That wasn’t him truly angry,” Draco finally spoke, his composure regained. “I’ve only seen him truly angry three times. The first was the night his mother was killed in front of him. The second was when I took the Mark,” he said, unconsciously grabbing his forearm. Draco could see Hermione processing the information, the gears in her head practically visible. 

“And the third?” She asked carefully, while looking at her untouched plate. 

“During the Battle,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t push it. He locked eyes with her and she studied him for a moment, seemingly weighing her next question. “I think many of us were truly angry that day,” he added as a note of finality on the subject. 

“You tortured her before we rescued her?” Draco gave a sharp nod, eager to avoid further discussion of one of his greatest regrets. “Luna never mentioned that to me,” Hermione said, pensively nodding as she looked through him. 

“She was strangely understanding about the whole ordeal. Bella wanted me to get some practical experience, as she called it. She said either I practiced the Cruciatus on Luna or she’d give her to Greyback so he could finetune his Imperious.” Hermione blanched at the mention of the brutal werewolf and Draco wondered if he’d forced her to relive her own experience at Malfoy Manor again. “Which I couldn’t stomach, knowing exactly what kind of tasks he would’ve had her perform. But for some reason she just - well, Luna looked at me with pity as I did it. That was the worst part. She pitied me when I hurt her.”

“Oh,” she said nearly inaudible as she stared at him with wide eyes. Hermione looked as sick as Draco currently felt. He looked back at the door the couple left through, feeling extremely foolish for his behavior over the past few months. Apparently he didn’t have to worry about Hermione Granger ruining his friendship with his best friend. He poisoned Theo against himself, his mistakes coming back to haunt him yet again. 

“I didn’t take you for an Exploding Snap fan,” Hermione commented lightly, pulling Draco back to the room and away from his mental spiraling.

“I’m not,” Draco shrugged, wondering why that was something she felt the need to comment on, of all things. He expected disgust or pity instead of an inquiry about game preferences. “I prefer Wizard’s chess. But Luna likes it.” Hermione seemed to register a moment of shock, before her eyebrows furrowed and she began to worry her bottom lip. Draco knew she was considering something, but he wasn’t sure why his comment would invoke deep reflection. Lost in thought, Hermione did not hear him sniff loudly and stand up. Only when he pushed his chair back in and started to walk away did she look up.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I need to leave before he gets back,” Draco sighed heavily. “He’ll need some time to calm down, I suspect,” he added, wondering if time would be enough to ease the rage he saw coursing through his best friend just minutes ago. “Have the elves make him beetlebourbon biscuits. That is his favorite when he is upset,” Draco added, walking past her. 

“Wait!” Hermione grabbed his arm to stop him. Draco felt himself straighten, acutely aware of her gentle touch. “I have something for you.” She disappeared out another door, giving Draco a moment to wonder at his strange physical reaction. She came back in carrying a small potted plant, which she handed to him with a smile. He took it tentatively, looking between her and the plant. It had several long green leaves sticking up out of the deep green pot it was in. “Muggles usually bring a gift when they visit someone for the first time. A hostess gift. Or in your case, a host gift. I forgot last night and after being there, I thought you might like this.”

“A plant?” Draco asked, wondering why she’d ever think he’d want a plant. “Do I look like Longbottom to you?”

“It’s called a snake plant,” Hermione said as a self-satisfied smile broke out across her face. She leaned in a big as she said, as though she were letting him in on some big joke. Draco felt his lips twitch in response, but didn’t let his face betray him. “I saw it on my errands this morning and I thought it could brighten up your home.”

“Thanks, Granger,” Draco replied, now staring at the plant with wonder as he analyzed this new and surprising development. Perhaps she didn’t care about the past like he thought she did. Perhaps they were moving away from civil and closer to becoming friends. Perhaps she was a friend who thought about him during errands and purchased gifts for him. He could use this to win Theo over again. “A snake for a snake,” Draco said proudly with a smirk. 

“It is just common courtesy, Malfoy,” Hermione replied, still smiling at him. “We’re civil, remember?” Malfoy could feel himself deflate in disappointment almost immediately. She still hated him. This plant wasn’t a peace offering, but a reminder that she was being nice because she had to. For Theo. He felt foolish for even momentarily entertaining the possibility that they could be friends. 

“Right,” Draco said briskly. “Thanks, Granger. You’ve got a smudge on your cheek by the way,” he added just as he left the room, aware of how childish it was to lie to make her feel self-conscious in a petty retaliation, but unwilling to let himself care. 

Rather than head directly home, Draco flooed to the manor. He quietly walked towards the kitchen to grab whatever was made for lunch, the only noise in the hallway his stomach rumbling with hunger. 

“Draco, darling,” his mother’s voice called from the end of the hall as she walked toward him, “what are you doing here? I thought that you were having -” Narcissa stopped, staring at the gift in his arms. “What is that dear?”

“A plant,” Draco answered, cursing himself for not going directly home and requesting lunch from Tippy in the comfort and safety of his own home. 

“Yes, I can see that. Did you buy yourself a plant?” Narcissa asked, a mix of humor and confusion in her light voice. “You know your mother has a green thumb; I gladly would’ve helped you pick one out.”

“No, Granger gave it to me,” Draco said gruffly, knowing what would happen next. 

“She gave you a present? Does that mean -”

Draco held up his hand. “No, Mother. This was a muggle custom. She called it a hostess gift.”

“So, she doesn’t realize what a gift like this means in wizarding society?” His mother’s disappointment was palpable. 

“No, and I’ll thank you not to tell her.” Draco gave his mother a stern look, one she returned twofold. 

“Nonsense. I’m tutoring her, my love. She needs to know she can’t be giving single young wizards tokens like this,” Narcissa sighed, eyeing the plant again. “Other families will not be so understanding. Could you imagine if she gave this to someone like the Longbottom boy? His traditional grandmother would be setting the wedding date despite her protests. Or worse, someone willing to threaten Theo should he turn their proposal down following a courting gift.” Draco noted the sevre look she leveled him with. 

“It’s a plant, Mother,” Draco said exasperatedly, annoyed that his generation was still held to customs that had fallen out of favor long before he was born. He didn’t want to start a fight by explaining that he was certain Hermione had given Neville Longbottom gifts in the past. 

“Again, I can see that,” Narcissa responded, plainly as annoyed by him. She reached out to touch the tip of one of the green leaves, rubbing it between the pads of her fingers as she examined it. “I’m not familiar with the meaning behind that one, but we should consult the books to determine what she meant by it should you be mistaken in her intentions.”

“She meant that I am an adult living in an empty house,” Draco said too loud, his patience officially worn thin. “I believe we can consider this a pity present, especially after today,” he added bitterly

“She’s seen your house?” Narcissa asked quietly, her face neutral as she watched for his response, though he could see her internally celebrating. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something rude that would set his mother off. 

“I’ll speak to you later, Mother. I had a rather unfortunate lunch at Theo’s and never got to the actual eating aspect of the meal,” Draco said dismissively, unwilling to recount his strange evening with Granger the night before. “But I beg you not to blow this out of proportion with Granger,” he added as he began walking towards the kitchen again.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Narcissa offered from behind him. He stopped, but refused to turn around. “Tell me what happened at lunch and I swear to you that I will only mention the meaning of exchanging gifts between two unbetrothed people in formal society. I won’t mention you to Hermione at all.”

Draco sighed and let his eyes drift to the ceiling as he thought about his mother’s words. He turned around to face her, knowing he’d lost when he saw her small smile. “Very well, Mother. Lead the way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back - should be updating at least weekly now that the holidays are over! You may notice that we upped the chapter count by two - I just have too much to fit in here. Thoughts, questions, comments, and conspiracy theories welcome and appreciated :)


	12. Important Conversations

“Draco, darling, what are you wearing?” His mother asked him impatiently, tapping her foot as she stood next to the empty dining table. Draco looked down at his flying gear, confused by her question. She was dressed in silk robes with her blonde hair pinned up, a look she usually reserved for society lunches, which put him on edge. When he didn’t respond, Narcissa sighed. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

“What?” Draco asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. He’d gone to bed after telling his mother about the fight with Theo and slept for nearly 18 hours. Draco planned to grab a quick breakfast with his mother at Malfoy Manor before flying for a good chunk of the morning. That was his usual ritual for the morning before an event, that way he didn’t feel like he’d wasted the entire day. Though the ball he’d been planning for months didn’t seem to have that same looming effect as other social obligations did.

“We discussed this yesterday, don’t you remember?” Draco did not, but kept his mouth shut. “You promised you would take me out for breakfast at the new cafe in Diagon Alley as a treat before tonight. Come now, let’s get a spot of breakfast.” Draco sighed, but nodded. After a quick trip home, he reappeared in black robes to escort his mother to Narcissa to Diagon Alley. Apperating to the alley, he followed his mother to a cheery looking cafe and opened the bright yellow door for her. 

“Narcissa, hello.” He heard Hermione’s voice say, igniting a jolt of nervous energy in him. Yesterday’s lunch had been uncomfortable at best and he’d planned to avoid her as much as possible during the ball tonight. As he walked in, Hermione looked surprised, but quickly smiled at him from her seat at a small window table. “And Malfoy, I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”

“I didn’t either,” he said, giving his mother a pointed look. Narcissa glanced at the menu she’d picked up off the table, pretending to be blissfully unaware of Draco’s glare.

“Since we were going to talk about the ball tonight and finalize last minute details, I thought we could all chat together and give our owls a well deserved break,” Narcissa explained as she took a seat across from Hermione. Draco begrudgingly sat next to the older witch, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione took the change in stride, producing a parchment from her bag and rattling off questions, all of which Narcissa answered in great detail. He nodded along, making note of Hermione’s request that he and she go to the venue early to finalize things. His mother however reassigned the task to Draco, citing the coveted preparation time witches needed prior to an event. He felt his lips twitch slightly as he watched Hermione suppress an eye roll, but soon the conversation grew dull again. Draco sighed, looking out the window they were seated next to and wishing he’d skipped breakfast; he’d be flying right now if he hadn’t gone to the manor. 

“Narcissa!” A familiar voice called from the door, breaking Draco out of his thoughts. Pansy Parkinson’s mother, dressed head to toe in a particularly loud shade of fuschia, leered at them hungrily. “Oh and who do we have here?” His mother’s close friend and a favorite source of Rita Skeeter, she walked closer and smiled pleasantly as she looked between the three of them.

“Oh, apologies, you two. I’ll be right back,” Narcissa said quietly, standing with urgency, as though she didn’t arrange for her friend to appear. “Maybe you could talk about saving a dance for each other tonight. Hello dear, how are you?” Narcissa practically floated towards her friend, a picture of unperturbed elegance despite the interruption, before pulling her away to the counter to look at the pastries on display. 

Draco groaned audibly. “ _ Subtle, Mother, _ ” he thought as he watched her glide away. 

“Have you spoken to Theo yet?” Hermione leaned across the table immediately, asking in hushed tones. Draco was thankful she had no comment on his mother’s conspicuous matchmaking efforts, but still wished he’d burned the damned plant before he set foot in the manor. 

“No, he won’t return my owls anyway,” Draco said knowingly. “He’ll need time to cool off.”

“I thought you hadn’t seen him mad much,” Hermione challenged. “How often do you two need breaks from each other?”

“I said truly angry. We’ve been friends forever - he has certainly been mad at me before. The last time he was mad at me he didn’t speak to me for three weeks. And that was about a rather rude reaction I had to one of his poems,” Draco said. He weighed the options and decided to plunge into the dangerous waters of the unknown. “I suppose he was also upset about what I said to you,” he probed. Hermione didn’t react, so he reluctantly continued. “About your father.”

“I haven’t said anything to him about that,” Hermione said haughtily, looking down at the menu. Relief flooded Draco, knowing he’d have the chance to salvage the Loony situation before revealing his second betrayal. “Though, I’d appreciate having some insight into what actually happened,” she added, her amber eyes now rapt on him. “Unless you’d like me to share with Theo what you said. I’m sure he’d take longer than three weeks to forgive you for whatever it is, given your reaction,” Hermione finished her threat with a sickly sweet smile he’d seen his own mother wear too many times.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Narcissa,” Draco sneered, though privately he was impressed. The Hermione Granger he knew as a girl had been adamant about rules unless she was saving Potter’s arse; he could never imagine her blackmailing someone, no matter how feeble the attempt. Draco smirked, knowing exactly how to shut her down. “Yet not enough time to get a true understanding of things. You do know that the plant you gifted me sent her into a tizzy. She is fully expecting me to court you as a result.” Hermione’s jaw dropped, prompting Draco to do an internal victory dance at unnerving her. “I believe that is what this little breakfast ambush is about.”

“Court me? Because of a hostess gift?” Hermione asked incredulously. “But you hate me,” Hermione exclaimed, surprising him. Draco considered correcting her, telling her that she was the one who hated him and he didn’t particularly mind spending time with her. His pride decided for him, keeping quiet after considering her own views towards him. 

“Obviously,” he drawled, delighting in the scowl Hermione sent his way. “But, Mother is mad for grandchildren. She'd marry me off to the first witch she could if I allowed it. In fact she’s always setting me up on dates and forcing me to….” Draco trailed off, realizing his mother hadn’t dragged him to any events, luncheons, or dates since the disastrous Greengrass luncheon. Since the day they found out about Hermione Nott Granger. “Huh,” he muttered to himself, surprised he hadn’t seen it sooner. He’d been so preoccupied with his latest experimental potion and planning for the ball, he hadn’t even realized the shift in his social calendar. 

“Forcing you to what?” Hermione asked softly. “Malfoy! Forcing you to what?” She asked again, louder and more insistent. Draco decided to file this discovery away for later. 

“Nothing, just - she’s likely to say something and I wanted you to hear it from me that I took the gift the way you intended it. Nothing more.” 

“Oh,” Hermione said stiffly. “Well, thank you for telling me that.” He watched her smooth her napkin over her lap a few times as she snuck a peek at Narcissa, still talking to her friend. 

“Don’t go around giving single wizards gifts like that, especially anything floral. They all have meanings,” Draco added against his better judgement, unable to keep the warning in. 

“Meanings? Like what?” Suddenly the curious swot was back, eager to learn something new. 

“Meanings for courting. I’m sure you’re familiar with red roses meaning romantic love. Suitors can express their interest with roses or other flowers,” Draco explained, recalling the summer afternoon just after his third year that his parents walked him through this lesson. They knew the Yule Ball was coming up and wanted to prevent him from sending any signals that could be misconstrued and later leveraged to make an undesirable match. “For example, if a wizard wanted to impress someone like you, they’d send clematis.”

“I’m honestly afraid to ask what that symbolizes,” Hermione said with a low chuckle, making Draco grin.

“The beauty of ingenuity.” At this, Hermione looked pleasantly surprised. “You’re famous for being a know-it-all, it’d be an easy bet,” Draco dismissed with an amused smirk. Hermione rolled her eyes at his bluntness. “But those being pursued can respond to advances with flowers as well. Carnations are a clear refusal of advances, whereas something like a honeysuckle is a symbol of love and acceptance of advances. Had you sent me home with a basil plant or something of that sort, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But apparently snake plants symbolize tenacity.” Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt, but Draco kept talking. “I haven’t the faintest where she even found the meaning as it is not a popular plant in the wizarding world. Regardless, after her discovery Mother was particularly interested in why you’d be giving me a plant that indicated perseverance. Especially with our history,” Draco added after a beat. Pink patches had appeared on Hermione’s cheeks as he spoke, which continued to get brighter the more he explained. 

“Merlin, that is embarrassing,” the witch muttered, twisting her bushy hair to one side like it was a nervous tick. “Your mother and Theo never mentioned it, nor did that bloody etiquette teacher!” Hermione had shifted from looking embarrassed to angry. “I’m so sorry if you thought I was misunderstanding us spending time together. I know it is just for the ball, obviously,” Hermione huffed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother hug Lady Parkinson, signaling the polite end of their conversation. 

“She’s coming back. If she asks, tell her we discussed in detail about dancing together,” Draco demanded, leaning over the table towards her so his mother couldn’t hear. “Say I asked about saving me the French Waltz. She knows it is my favorite.” 

“I’m not lying to her,” Hermione hissed back. “She’ll know, she’s terrifyingly good at that. Anyway, I don’t want to encourage this misunderstanding.”

“If you do it, I’ll tell you what you want to know about Theo,” Draco lied, hoping to placate his mother until after this evening’s activities were through. He’d deal with her overstepping later, but figured if she believed her meddling was working, she’d take a respite. Hermione nodded quickly, apparently as eager to solve a mystery as ever. 

“So sorry about that,” Narcissa said as she took her seat, her eyes roving over the two of them discreetly. “Now then, Draco, Theo asked for you to head to Nott Manor. Hermione and I can finalize the items and send the list over to you two before we get primed and primped for tonight at the manor. You invited Ginny to get ready together, Hermione?” The brunette smiled in response, her willingness to return to his cursed ancestral home surprising Draco. 

“He sent you an owl requesting me this morning and you asked me to come here instead?” Draco asked through his teeth, trying hard to keep his annoyance out of his voice. 

“You did promise your mother breakfast, darling,” Narccisa said warningly. “But go on,” she dismissed him. He bid the pair of witches goodbye before leaving the cafe and apperating to Nott Manor. 

“Theo?” Draco called, as he walked in. “I was told you asked for me,” he added loudly, his anxiety growing as he looked around. Usually empty and quiet, Nott Manor was bustling with house elves carrying parchment and decorations. 

“In here,” Draco could hear Theo call from the library. As he walked in his eyes were assaulted by pure chaos. The normally tidy library, save for whatever a stack of books Granger was working through, was covered in various materials. Flowers, candles, glass marbles, and tablecloths were strewn throughout the room, with Theo and Potter sitting in the middle of it.

“What is all this?” Draco gestured to the mess, but kept his eyes on Potter. 

“Your mother came here at an unbelievably early hour demanding my assistance with centerpieces. I asked her to send you over as soon as you woke up. Hermione was already gone with no note as to her whereabouts, so I floo called Miss Weasly to help. Potter picked up and offered to come over.”

“Okay,” Draco said readily, looking around at the mess again. “Potter, move over,” Draco instructed as he began to slightly roll up and cuff his sleeves. He quickly stopped, pushing his sleeve back down over the Dark Mark before Potter noticed. 

“Okay,” Potter echoed, giving him a curt nod hello as he joined them on the floor. The three men quietly assembled centerpieces with wandwork. 

“So, did either of you catch the Canons game this week?” Theo asked nonchalantly after a few minutes of silence. Draco furrowed his eyebrows at his friend asking about quidditch without prompting for the first time possibly ever. 

“Yes! They are looking good this season,” Potter smiled as he focused on magically separating different sized candles. “Obviously I have to root for the Harpies with Ginny on the team, but the Canons are a close second favorite.”

“Well the Harpies have an excellent line up,” Draco interjected. “So, lucky that you have to root for them.” Potter gave Draco a genuine grin in response to the compliment about his partner, and Draco realized it was the first time he’d ever seen Potter look at him without suspicion, pity, or malice. The three wizards chatted casually about quidditch as they worked, Draco thankful they found a safe topic. He could always revert back to the Canons and quidditch if stuck in an interaction with the raven haired wizard in the future.

“Do you need help getting them to the venue?” Harry asked as they finalized the last centerpiece.

“No, we’ve got it. Thank you again for coming to the rescue, Potter,” Theo clapped the other man on the back appreciatively. 

“Of course. Tonight is a big deal for Hermione. I know she is hopeful that the hubbub helps with the funding this act needs to make a difference. I promised I would do everything I could to help,” Potter said. “Though I imagined I’d be pulling out the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice act for donors, rather than compiling centerpieces,” he chuckled, pushing his hair to the side and flashing his famous scar. 

“Well I don’t think you’re getting out of that either. But we’re lucky to have you on all fronts, right Draco?” Theo prompted, looking at him expectantly. 

“Yes, thank you,” Draco replied, surprised that he meant it genuinely. Perhaps Potter wasn’t as big of a tosser as he thought. 

As Potter left, the pair silently levitated the materials into the piles Narcissa had outlined just outside the library doors. When Theo directed the house elves to move it to the venue and set it up per Narcissa’s carefully drawn diagrams, Draco studied him, waiting for some sort of outburst or confrontation. Instead his friend walked back into the library without a word. Quick on Theo’s heels, Draco found himself getting more frustrated with the silence. Usually when they’d a row, Theo would quietly address the situation before reverting back to normal. After his friend settled into a loveseat with a book, Draco finally burst. “What was this today?”

“What? Trying to make an effort with Potter?” Theo asked as Draco sat on the couch across from him. “You know Hermione and he consider themselves de facto siblings, kind of the way we do. It pays to make an effort, just as I think Hermione has been trying to make with you.”

“No, I mean...aren’t you still angry? At me.” Theo looked at him for a long time without speaking, eventually making Draco shift uncomfortably. 

“Of course I am angry,” Theo said calmly, his voice devoid of any rage. “I am angry that our horrible fathers put us in that position. I am angry that you were forced to do things you otherwise never would have done. Words cannot capture how furious I am that Luna was tortured and held captive, especially because I could have done something to help her,” Theo’s voice cracked as he spoke of Luna. Draco began to argue that point, but Theo held up a single finger telling him to wait. “But I am not angry at you. In fact, I’m sorry I lost my temper, it was just a lot to take in. I remember that night, the one you had to...” Theo trailed off, the pain of a memory playing out on his face. “I’m not sure you even remember the state you were in when you walked out of my floo, sobbing and hyperventilating. I had never seen you like that and I was bloody terrified. I thought about that a lot last night, about the boy who walked into my house and the man who tried to apologize for it yesterday.” Theo’s voice still even, but his eyes were watery. 

“So we are okay?” Draco asked hopefully.

“You’re my brother. I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that.” Draco released a breath, gratitude flooding through him. At his friend’s words, he considered telling him about his slip up with Hermione the other day, but decided to wait on that. Draco didn’t want to start anything now that they’d made up and just prior to the big event. The blond internally vowed to explain everything fully later in the week and deal with the consequences then, whatever they may be. 

“Thank you. For what is worth, I enjoyed seeing how happy you are with her,” Draco said softly, making his friend beam. 

“She is incredible, isn’t she?” Theo asked excitedly, a look of wonder crossing his face that made him look younger. Memories of the shy and excitable boy he grew up with popped into Draaco’s mind, before Theo lost his mum and his world became colder, darker, and unyieldingly unfair. 

“She certainly is,” Draco agreed, thinking incredible was the perfect word for the strange witch. “Though I am devastated I can no longer use you to distract Mother from her matchmaking efforts, as I certainly need a break,” he teased as he stood. “I have to head back home and start getting ready. Can I still count on you to show up early and help me check all the boxes? Granger and I were meant to, but Mother insisted they prepare together instead.”

“Yeah, happy to. And just be thankful your mum is keeping Hermione occupied so she can’t micromanage the process.” At this both the wizards sniggered, sharing a knowing glance. 

A few hours later, Draco was nearly dressed for the evening. Both Tippy and his mother insisted he wear his gray dress robes to bring out his eyes. He surrendered, thankful he didn’t have to buy anything new or subject himself to another Tippy tailoring experience. Before he could leave, he realized he needed cufflinks. He’d torn his room apart trying to find the silver and green ones Narcissa gifted him for his graduation before asking Tippy for help. After a half hour of looking, she returned and tearfully told him they weren’t in the cottage or manor. As he debated changing to something more casual, Draco remembered he’d passed out at Blaise’s after the last charity event he attended, presumably leaving them there. He decided against going over now and derailing his schedule further, instead opting to borrow some from his father. “ _ It is not as though he will be using them, _ ” Draco reasoned as he apperated into his father’s study. He grabbed his cufflinks, shaped as snakes that were enchanted to slither, from the top drawer where his father kept them and decided to alert his mother that he’d be leaving. 

Turning the corner, a nest of caramel curls came into his view. Still in her clothes from breakfast and not near ready for the ball, Granger was standing, frozen, staring up at the same doors she’d had a panic attack in front of months ago. Gripping the cold metal cufflinks in his hand, he stopped and slammed his eyes shut, hoping it was his imagination. As he reopened them, the short witch was still silently standing there. Draco quickly realized she must have gotten lost again on her way to get ready. The younger Malfoy would have walked away, uneager to interact with someone emotionally vulnerable if he didn’t absolutely need to, but that was a luxury he didn’t have anymore; not with Hermione Granger, not about this. 

“Back here again?” Draco called, causing her to turn in surprise. “No crying this time, I see,” he added as he got closer. He expected to see her on the verge of tears or shaky, but instead her expression was one of cold indifference. She was analyzing him with each step he took, calculating something by the time he stood across from her. 

“Malfoy, why did you help me?” Hermione asked lowly, her voice eerily calm. He thought back to her panic attack and the unfortunate way he handled it.

“Didn’t we already cover this?” Draco scoffed, trying to sound relaxed even though her demeanor and the setting had him anything but. “I didn’t want you to think I was evil. Or still evil, I suppose.”

“I mean help  _ us _ . Why did you help us?” Hermione asked, the mask breaking and confusion pouring through. His stomach sinking, Draco knew exactly what she was asking, but was scrambling to figure out why. “That day we got captured. You refused to identify us,” Hermione clarified, waiting for an answer. 

“I can’t believe you could call what I did that day help,” he replied bitterly. “But wasn’t this dissected enough at the trial?” Draco looked back down the hallway he came, entertaining just walking away and pretending she hadn’t taken a hacksaw to their precarious arrangement of civility. They weren’t meant to be talking about the war, or his worst memories. They were supposed to stick to safe topics, like he had with Potter earlier. 

“I know you knew it was us. How could you not? You helped by not saying anything,” Hermione insisted. 

“I stood there while my insane aunt carved you up,” Draco said sharply, the contempt he had for himself in that moment clear in his voice. “Marked you with someone nearly as bad as what I have.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it,” Hermione said softly, gently reaching out towards him. Draco took a large step back, wishing he could disappear. 

“I know.”

“But why didn’t you identify us?” Hermione asked after taking a deep breath. “I still wonder.”

“Been on your mind a lot lately?” He grumbled, taking another step back and shoving his hands in his pockets. Unwelcome shame pooled in his stomach and crept up the back on his neck. 

“Malfoy,” Hermione said sternly, her dark brows furrowed at him. 

“Is this some sort of sick payback?” Draco asked angrily, his patience thoroughly spent after an emotionally exhausting week. “Making me relive it? I already do every single time I look at you,” Draco yelled, making the witch in front of him flinch. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I didn’t believe in the cause,” he said quietly, fighting for calm. “I hated the evil bastard dragging us into war. I was terrified of losing my parents, losing my life. I didn’t want to play the pawn in a match that I had no stake in.” Hermione nodded, absentmindedly biting her lower lip as he spoke, clearly processing. “For what it is worth, I wish I did more. That day is one of my many regrets,” Draco added sincerely. He was sure something was in the water today, given his interactions with both Potter and Granger. All he needed was a heartfelt moment with Weasley and he’d be three for three in a game he never wanted to play. 

Unlike Potter, Hermione didn’t take his words in stride. Instead, she was lost in thought, staring at the doors again. Eventually, Draco realized he’d need to go to help Theo with final preparations. “I believe my mother will send out a search party if you aren’t up there to get ready soon.”

“Right,” Hermione said, finally retching her gaze from the doors to look at Draco. “You look far more ready than I am,” she said as she gave him a quick once over. “Are you heading over early?”

“Yes, Theo is heading over with me. Or he’s probably already there, I think I am late. I came into grab cufflinks and,” he looked down to the cufflinks he’d been clutching in his hand. Red indents in the shape of snakes marked his hand. Hoping to quickly forget this conversation and return to their prior agreement, he shakily asked, “Actually, do you mind?” Draco held them out to her, the pair slithering together in his hand. “I can never do them myself.”

“Of course,” Hermione said softly, her soft hand brushing his as she reached to grab one. Draco held his wrist up to her, which she gingerly held with one hand. Without a word, she hooked the snake in with her thin and decidedly nimble fingers, adjusting the cuff down his arm. “Good?” He nodded in response. As she repeated the process with his other hand, she looked up at him. “Thanks, Malfoy. For everything.” He gave her a grim smile as he adjusted the sleeves once more. 

“See you tonight, Granger.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are about to hit the ball! Fair warning, the next few chapters will be incredibly self-indulgent. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I do. 
> 
> Until then, any thoughts, comments, conspiracy theories, etc are very much appreciated!


	13. The Ball

Malfoy’s warning about his mother’s interest in the two of them dating rang in Hermione’s head as she finished reviewing details with Narcissa at the cafe, but the older witch thankfully never mentioned the snake plant miscommunication. Instead, when they finished, Narcissa grabbed her hand and squeezed it once. 

“I hope you know that you’ve become very dear to me these last few months,” Narcissa said tenderly. “Like a daughter.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” the brunette replied, caught off guard by the open affection from the usually closed off witch. “Not just for saying that, but for everything. With my mom so far away and since I haven’t shared the news with either of my parents yet,” Hermione said, choosing her words carefully. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your guidance and encouragement.” The blonde’s face broke into a warm smile, her eyes shining, and Hermione returned the squeeze as they held hands over the table. 

“I had hoped desperately that we’d get on like this. I was so worried when I learned the news that you’d never forgive us for that day at the manor.” Narcissa’s face darkened as she spoke, her eyes flickering to Hermione’s covered forearm. It took substantial effort for Hermione not to pull away and hid it under the table. “We paid our price, of course, Draco the heaviest.” The woman looked out the window, suddenly very far away. 

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione asked sharply, feeling as though it were obvious that she’d paid the heaviest price for that afternoon. 

“Oh,” Narcissa said, shaking her head and taking her hand back. She looked uncomfortable, as though she’d shared something she shouldn’t have. “Nothing, darling girl.”

“Narcissa, please,” Hermione asked softly, her curiosity always getting the better of her. The older witch held her gaze for just a moment before releasing a small sigh. 

“Just that V-Vol- the Dark Lord tortured Draco after you got away,” Narcissa whispered with difficulty. It was the first time Hermione had heard the polished witch stumble over something. Usually Hermione would have focused on that, but she was too worried about what the woman across from her would say next. “Well, first Luicius, then Draco. Bella, though she had her faults, protected me from the same punishment. Although I had to watch them both suffer, silenced by her. He tortured Draco within an inch of his life, I was terrified he’d go mad like the Longbottoms,” Narcissa sniffed, pausing to calm herself. “When the Dark Lord stopped, I was certain he’d kill us all, but thankfully he spared us instead.” Narcissa shrugged lightly as she finished, but at Hermione’s horrified face she began to backtrack. “Oh no, please don’t blame yourself. Draco knew the risk when he made the decision to lie, just like I did when I lied about Mister Potter. I know he didn’t talk about the consequences during the trial, but I assure you that he consciously made the choice. It was not your fault - I didn’t mean to upset you.”

As Narcissa spoke, it felt like her voice was drifting further away. Hermione had always considered what Malfoy did to be brave; he saved their lives by lying to his parents and psychotic aunt. But she never considered that he had faced severe consequences for it. He’d never mentioned it, it never once came up in the trials. Surely Draco Malfoy, who cried that he’d been mortally wounded by a Hippogriff scratch in their third year, would have told someone about the pain he endured. 

“Hermione?” Narcissa’s gentle voice broke through her thoughts. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just thinking,” Hermione said. “Thank you for telling me, Narcissa. I - I had no idea.”

“Yes, well, war is difficult for everyone. But I’m so glad for our fresh start. I think tonight will be the first step in undoing a lot of the bad created in the last war.” The women nodded at each other, before saying a quick goodbye. Just as they left the cafe, Narcissa had that familiar small smile playing at her lips as she held her head high, looking effortlessly elegant once again. As they parted ways Hemrione absently wondered if Narcissa was an occlumens and that is what she was constantly so unperturbed. 

Hermione spent the next few hours in a daze, replaying both Narcissa’s words and that day at Malfoy Manor. No matter how hard she tried to put it out of her mind, she kept returning to the moment Malfoy lied. The reluctance in his face, compared to the eager joy of his father. “I don’t know,” he’d whispered hoarsely before turning and walking towards his mother by the fireplace. “I don’t know,” echoed in each step she took back to her flat, with each item she placed in her charmed bag for the evening ahead, and as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. 

When Hermione stepped through the floo, she meant to walk directly to Narcissa’s wing, but instead her feet took her back to the horrible door. Only this time, she didn’t cry or panic. Instead she could only stare, Narcissa’s words repeating in her head on a loop, interspersed with Malfoy’s voice saying “I don’t know.” An image of an unsure Malfoy lying about their identities popped into her brain before it changed to a horrified Malfoy keeping eye contact with her as his aunt carved into. But worse, a new image came to mind, one of Malfoy withering in pain on the floor with Voldemort looming over him. Then she remembered what he’d said about medical potions, which made her wonder how many other incidents he’d endured that had required medical attention. Accidents that were never brought forth in the trials. 

When the real Draco Malfoy appeared behind her, she couldn’t help but press him on the question that had kept her up at night; why did he lie? The guilt that poured out of him did nothing to reaffirm her view of him, instead making her question each interaction they’d had since she returned. Was Draco Malfoy, childhood bully and all around arrogant jerk, really the kind of person who would knowingly put himself at such risk for a reason supplemental to self-gain?

It was only once she walked away that she realized that he had asked for her help and she’d given it, adjusting the cufflinks without a rude comment or icy silence from either of them. Their encounter, combined with other little glimpses he’d given into himself over the past few months, made Hermione wonder if Draco was truly a different person than she thought he was. With a new Draco-shaped puzzle dropped at her feet, she wandered absently towards Narcissa’s wing. As Hermione reached the stairs, she ran into Ginny, who was overjoyed to see her.

“There you are! Thank Merlin,” her friend muttered looking around uncomfortably. “This place is creepy. Are you ready?”

“Yes, thank you for doing this with me,” Hermione said, pulling herself out of her head and giving Ginny a grateful grin. “Narcissa really has been kind to me and I think she is lonely.”

“Well, with Malfoy for company, I’d rather be alone too,” Ginny teased as they walked up the stairs. Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond to that now. “But I understand, if my dad was gone and my mom lived alone, she’d be lonely too.”

“Hello Lady and Missus,” Tippy greeted from the top of the stairs. “The Lady Malfoy is being waiting for you, this way,” the little house elf said as she led them around the corner and down the long hallway.

“Thank you Tippy,” Hermione said with great emphasis, making the house elf turn around and beam widely at her as she walked backwards. “We appreciate it.” The elf began to skip as she led them to the end of the hall. 

“Here we is.” Tippy knocked in a rapid pattern before opening the door to a room bigger than the extended library in Malfoy’s cottage. Unlike the rest of the house, which looked as though it had been designed in another century, Narcissa’s quarters were sleek and hyper-modern, all black and sharp angels with large mirrors covering one of the walls. As Hermione looked around in awe of the drastic change, she spotted Narcissa seated in the corner, sipping on champagne in a silk emerald robe and talking to a woman nearly as tall as Hagrid. 

“Welcome ladies,” Narcissa greeted them from her spot on an angled sette as they walked through the door. “Please come in!” She gestured towards the mirrored wall and got up to join them. 

When Narcissa originally extended her invitation, Hermione imagined that the three of them would chat as they put on makeup and Ginny did Hermione’s hair, like she had at the Yule Ball. She did not expect a team of extremely tall, pouting women waiting in the room for them, surrounding three black chairs in front of Narcissa’s massive vanity. “Take a seat, take a seat,” she motioned towards the chairs. “This is Esmerelda and her team, Josie and Eloise. They took a portkey in from Paris to help us get ready.” Ginny shot Hermione a wide-eyed look of surprise as they took their seats next to the older witch. As soon as they were seated, champagne flutes appeared in their hands. 

  
“Er, if it is not too much trouble, could I get some tea instead?” Hermione asked Narcissa, hoping this was not a rude question. She was a bit jittery already and wanted to be at the top of her game when she entered what Ginny had been referring to all week as the snake pit. Tippy appeared with a crack, giving Hermione another wide smile, before removing the champagne flute and replacing it with a dainty teacup. 

“Cheers!” Narcissa said happily, which Ginny and Hermione echoed quietly before taking sips. Narcissa launched into action, giving directions on hair and makeup for all three women, which Hermione was thankful for. One thing she fully trusted Narcissa with was appearance. Perhaps it was the only thing she trusted her society mentor with. As the tall women began to work, Narcissa asked after the Weasleys and inquired about Ginny’s love story with Harry Potter. Ginny, usually sick of sharing details about her relationship with Harry, happily shared with Narcissa. Hermione wondered if Harry had asked his ginger partner to be kind to the woman who saved his life. 

As the team around Hermione magicked her hair into a smooth updo, she worked hard to clear her mind, where Draco Malfoy had yet again taken up residence. Just as she was able to push the two strange interactions she’d had with him today out of her mind and relax, Theo popped up. In the madness of this week, she still had yet to investigate exactly how Theo had handled their father, and was working hard to pretend everything was alright with him until she did. It was hard to feel as though Theo could not be trustworthy, especially with how warm he was to her. 

“Are you okay?” Ginny whispered when Narcissa turned away to give further instruction to Esmerelda as she worked on the older witch’s makeup. “You’ve been scary quiet.” Hermione only nodded, fighting for focus. She pushed Theo to the back of her mind and vowed to handle him tomorrow. 

“Narcissa, you mentioned you had friends who were troublemakers,” Hermione started, getting the blonde’s attention. “Any good Hogwarts stories to share with your fellow alumnae?” Narcissa cracked a mischievous smile, one Hermione had seen Ginny wear too many times for her liking. She told them stories of covering for Andromeda as she snuck out of the Slytherin dorms to meet Ted Tonks and how she and her best friends had snuck gillywater into quidditch games. As she spoke, she looked between the two girls with a fond smile as though remembering her own friends at their age. 

“Maybe that would have been the secret to getting Hermione to actually enjoy quidditch games,” Ginny teased. 

“Oh, yes let’s add alcohol to an already stressful situation,” Hermione said sarcastically, earning a theatrical sigh from Ginny. “Anyway, I was a prefect. I would have never!”

“I was a prefect too,” Narcissa smiled. “Though it did not stop my friends from trying to make things harder. My best friend was too smart, she was almost dangerous. She once snuck into the prefects bath and stole the clothes of this particularly rude Ravenclaw prefect after he spread a rather nasty rumor about her being promiscuous. She left his shoes, but transfigured them into high heels. It was a Saturday morning, so she’d gathered a bunch of friends in the hallway, all of whom saw this naked boy hurrying down the hallway, trying to cover himself with a pair of heels,” Narcissa said, struggling to speak through her laughter. Hermione and Ginny were laughing boisterously with her, and Hermione wondered if Ginny was thinking of the pranks that Fred and George used to play. 

“That sounds like something you’d do,” Hermione said to Ginny, who was still giggling. The redhead wiggled her eyebrows dangerously in response. 

“We were always keeping secrets for each other, even dangerous ones like that,” Narcissa said wistfully. “But yes, Ginerva here does remind me a bit of her,” she added fondly.

“Speaking of secrets, any embarrassing baby photos of Draco you’d like to share with us girls?” Ginny asked mischievously. 

“I’m saving those for his future spouse,” Narcissa replied, a twinkle in her own eye. “You’ll have to wait for that opportunity to embarrass him until we find him the right match,” her voice lilted on the last words as her eyes darted to Hermione. The brunette ducked her head and took a sip from her teacup. Perhaps Draco had been right about his mother after all. “Speaking of matchmaking; Ginerva, I understand you enjoy it? Hermione mentioned you’re trying to set her up with a good wizard.” Ginny nodded enthusiastically before bemoaning all the attempts she’d made that Hermione had shut down without even trying to meet any of the options. The two women began to commiserate about setting others up. Hermione smiled and nodded, thankful they’d moved the focus away from her. As they spoke, Hermione turned inward again, thinking of Draco and the cufflinks. For some reason her mind kept flashing back to his eyes trained on her as she worked and the feeling of their hands touching. It frustrated Hermione that she couldn’t shake the memory, given the amount of times she’d tied a tie for Ron or helped Harry with his glasses. “ _ This was no different than that _ ,” Hermione reprimanded herself internally.    


When the team was finally done beautifying the three witches, the trio took turns using the powder room to change into their ball gowns and showing off their final looks. Ginny picked a low cut navy gown, her ginger hair pinned back to show it off, while Narcissa was draped in a clingy pale blue gown that brought out her eyes, her blonde hair swept up into an intricate braided updo filled with dazzling pins. Narcissa’s sapphire earrings were bigger than galleons and Hermione guessed she’d performed a charm on them to make them weightless. The brunette went last, surprised that she felt nervous about changing. Both Ginny and Narcissa clapped when she came out in her golden gown, making her roll her eyes goodnaturedly. As the trio moved to leave, Narcissa grabbed Hermione’s elbow. 

“I’m thrilled you brought Ginny along, thank you for making my evening,” Narcissa whispered, gently tucking a loose curl back into Hermione’s updo. She felt a longing in her heart for her own mother, who had done that same action countless times. “I want you to borrow these for the night.” The older witch held out a small velvet box, cracking it open to show petite diamonds encircled in gold halos. Hermione immediately shook her head and began to refuse the over the top gesture. “Oh, please stop that. I will not have my mentee looking anything less than perfection during her presentation.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said sincerely, knowing she’d lose the battle on this front. She quickly popped them into her ears. “What do you think?”

“You look stunning, Hermione,” Ginny said as she smiled kindly. “You’ll be batting them off with a stick tonight.” The ginger shared a knowing look with Narcissa. 

“I quite agree. Anyway, thank you both for obliging an old woman,” Narcissa said to them both, earning a disbelieving scoff from Ginny. Hermione agreed with the sentiment, as Narcissa was nowhere near as old as she referred to herself. “I appreciate having some stand-in daughters for the night!”

“Thank you for bringing in an entire team to help us get ready for this,” Hermione replied, gesturing at herself. She still felt ridiculous, but hoped that she could pull it off with confidence as she dealt with potential donors. The witch patted her arm before she led the two younger witches to the floo. “Applewhite Gallery,” they each exclaimed before walking through the green flames. 

As Hermione entered the art gallery off Diagon Alley that they’d booked for the event, she gasped in delight. The gallery had been transformed with floating candles and climbing ivy covering the walls. The ceiling was enchanted to reflect the night sky, though Hermione thought the full moon that was included was rather insensitive given that the event was about fundraising to help werewolves. Hoping others weren’t offended, she started looking through the horde of people as gentle music from the live band played. Narcissa gave her a silent wave goodbye as she slipped away. 

As Hermione’s eyes swept the crowd, she picked out Harry moving quickly towards Ginny, a huge smile on his face. Her friend broke off quickly, nearly running towards him. As the couple kissed, she found Ron talking to Blaise in the corner, Neville and Hannah already dancing alongside Molly and Arthur Weasely on the dancefloor, and George by the refreshments talking amicably with Lord Greengrass, who Hermione knew was also a Diagon Alley patron. She wondered what the twin knew about the patrons and made a note to ask him later. 

The easiest friends to spot were Theo and Luna. Her brother bought his paramour a dress for the occasion, against Hermione and Ginny’s advice. However, looking at her Hermione realized how perfect it was. Brightly colored flowers were sewn into her blonde hair, a braid crown that looked like a halo, and continued down the puffy white ball gown. Theo’s dress robes were bright blue to match the predominant flower she wore. Her brother’s smile was brighter than their loud outfits, making Hermione grin automatically before it dissolved as she thought again of Malfoy’s comment about their father. Taking another sweep, Hermione realized with a pang of disappointment couldn't spot Malfoy anywhere in the crowd. She dismissed the feeling as quickly as she realized what it was and walked towards Harry and Ginny to start mingling. 

As the evening went on, Hermione grew more thankful that her friends had shown up in full force. She’d overheard them schmoozing and convincing attendees to increase their donations. Even Harry, Godric bless him, had pulled out all the stops tonight, attending as the Boy-Who-Lived and protector of the wizarding world, and raising an astonishing extra 500 galleons alone when she checked in with him halfway through the evening.

Hermione still hadn’t seen Draco hours after arriving when Narcissa grabbed her and pulled her into a conversation with Marcus Bullstrode, mentioning that she was going to act as the Nott patron for Diagon Alley. The chilly exterior of the Wizgamont member that Hermione was so used to when he directly shut down her legislation melted into a friendly reception. As they spoke, a smile plastered on her face even when he leered at her, she internally stewed. “ _ It pays to be in the in-crowd, _ ” she thought bitterly. The shift in demeanor towards her was repeated with other influential London wizards and witches over the evening, only strengthening her resolve to use this newfound insider power to help anyone left on the outside. 

After what seemed like an endless loop of the same conversation, Hermione was able to excuse herself from the buzzing dance floor under the guise of getting herself a drink. Walking down the long hallway to the second ballroom in the gallery, she found the balcony that stretched the hallway abandoned and took the opportunity to quietly slip out to have a moment alone. Resting against the railing, Hermione took a deep breath and stared into the dark. As the ballroom filled up with potential donors and elites eager to meet her, it had gotten overwhelmingly warm. She was grateful for the private moment in the cool summer breeze. 

“Miss Granger,” a deep voice asked behind her. Hermione braced herself, pasting on her fundraising smile Narcissa had trained her on, ready to work another person over for more donations. 

“Yes?” she asked, turning towards the voice. In the doorway stood a muscular wizard with dark hair in all black dress robes holding two champagne flutes. She cocked her head, trying to place his vaguely familiar face. 

“Marcus Flint. We went to school together, but I was a few years ahead of you,” he smiled, showing an attractive set of teeth. Hermione noted the improvement since she last saw him, returning the smile. 

“It is a pleasure to see you again Marcus,” Hermione lied, remembering what a horrid bully the Slytherin boy had been, as well as a cheat in quidditch and rather dimwitted. She wondered how long she’d have to talk with him in order to gain a donation. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I saw you standing out here and thought you looked like you could use a drink. I grabbed one for both of us,” he said as he offered one of the glasses to her. 

“Thank you, a drink would be much appreciated,” she replied, gratefully accepting and taking a rather large swig. She had abstained from drinking anything alcoholic the entire evening, anxious enough about her debut and things going off without a hitch. Now that the worst was over and she’d met her overarching goals, Hermoine felt like she could indulge a bit. “Oh, this is interesting,” she remarked as the bubbles fizzed strangely on her tongue. 

“I believe it is fairy-made, but don’t quote me on that,” he said, giving her a charming smile. Hermione smiled back, noting again that his teeth were certainly an improvement. “Tonight seems like it’s been a wild success.”

“Thank you, I think the fundraising is going quite well. This is the first time I’ve hosted an event like this,” Hermione offered, thankful that the small talk was about the event rather than more questions about her involvement in the war, which was the topic most of tonight’s attendees wanted to know more about. 

“I understand you’re focused on werewolf matters at the Ministry?” Hermione felt like surely that much was obvious, given that she’d organized the Wolfsbane Subsidy Fund Charity Ball. However, she cut the man some slack and nodded. 

“I work on all magical creatures, but I’ve been focused on the Wolfsbane Subsidy Act for several months. When Lady Malfoy heard about the potential funding issues, she offered her support and we arrived at this,” Hermione waved her hands around at the pristinely decorated hall behind them. “I thought with my new position, I could capitalize on the attention and turn it into something positive for our community.”

“Admirable. How has the adjustment been?” As he asked Hermione realized he’d inched much closer over the course of their conversation. “Becoming a Nott, I mean.”

“More difficult than I expected, if I’m honest,” Hermione said vaguely, realizing she was alone with a male member of high society and hoping she could avoid saying anything wrong. Her mistake with the plant had thrown her this morning and she wasn’t sure what other antiquated pureblood nonsense she could accidentally walk into. Plus, Theo had never mentioned Marcus, even though they were housemates in school. She wasn’t sure if he even knew Theo. 

“I have no doubt. I’m sure it was a shock to be forced into society like this,” Marcus chuckled, looking out into the dark.

“Well, Theo has been extremely gracious. I’m thankful I can call him my brother.”

“We don’t know each other well, but I’ve heard that Nott is a standup man. I’ve also heard he has been harassed by countless wizards to formally pursue you,” he paused, sneaking a look at her. Her stomach curdled as the wolfish expression he wore. “A girl as beautiful as you deserves a real wizard,” he stepped closer. 

“And I suppose you are this wizard?” Hermione rolled her eyes at the transparency. Thankfully, Narcissa had warned her to expect this kind of behavior from wizards from certain families. She hadn’t had a lot of experience in this realm; before she went to Australia she’d only truly been pursued by Viktor Krum, who was, by all accounts, a gentleman and sweetheart. She and Ron had pursued each other, she supposed, though it was more like fell into each other after years of dancing around something. Narcissa explained that she should expect men to start approaching her and Theo once the article broke. Hermione was grateful that Narcissa, and originally Draco, had overexaggerated the issue of proposals because until tonight, no one had bothered her at all, let alone proposed. 

“If you’d like me to be,” he wrapped his arms around her, stroking the small of her back, which made her skin crawl. Hermione shifted back, trying to squirm away and say something, but her tongue was like peanut butter in her mouth. Instead she shook her head as she tried to back away. “I know you didn’t grow up with the traditional courting process. Most of us don’t follow it anyway, indulging here and there. I’d love to give you a taste of my skills tonight,” he leaned close to her ear, whispering the last sentence too loudly in her ear.

Finally breaking an arm out of his tight grasp, Hermione shoved him, her open palms connecting with his chest with a loud smack. “Leave me alone, you vile creep” she said loudly, finally finding her voice. She’d left her bag with Ginny, and in it her wand. She’d have to wordlessly hex him if he didn’t leave. 

“Bitch,” Marcus muttered as he stumbled back a step, a confused frown on his face. Hermione wondered if no one had ever turned down his creepy advances before. 

“Proud of it,” Hermione spat back, trying to step around the wizard. 

As she moved to go, he grabbed her wrists roughly, bringing her close. “I can show you a good time. You’ll be begging for more, just give it a minute.”

Hermione struggled to yank her arm back, starting to feel nauseous. “Let me go!”

“I think it’s time you went back inside, Flint,” After an evening of remaining elusive, Draco Malfoy appeared out of nowhere. He was behind Marcus, his hand grabbing the wizard's shoulder and pulling him. Hermione stumbled a bit, feeling dizzy and looking at the ground to find her bearings. 

“How is this your business, Malfoy? Can’t you see we’re busy here?” Marcus’ voice was full of annoyance. Draco ripped Flint away from Hermione as the floor suddenly started spinning violently below her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the ball! This + the next two chapters are extremely self-indulgent, so thanks for coming along for the ride. As always reactions/thoughts/conspiracy theories appreciated!


	14. Draco's Fall

Draco sighed heavily, staring at the crowd pouring through the gallery doors. Charity balls always bored him. Usually he was only in attendance at his mother’s behest and forced to drag along a date handpicked for him. One small perk of being one of the organizers of tonight’s event was that he could come stag and avoid an endless evening of mindless small talk with a society witch he had no interest in. 

Not that this ball would be without mindless small talk. Draco had an assignment - he was to spend the evening rubbing shoulders with Britain's wizarding elite, talking up the event’s cause in an effort to raise additional funds. 

“Ready mate?” Theo gestured to the arriving people before he began to walk down the stairs. “I’ve got to find Luna,” he called over his shoulder, practically skipping like a child. Though Draco couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen his friend skip; he’d never been so weightless. Unlike the mask he usually wore over his baggage, Theo’s carefree mood seemed genuine. Adjusting his deep navy dress robes, Draco trailed down the stairs after the lanky wizard and put on his haughtiest smirk. He knew it was time to turn on the old Malfoy charm he’d seen his father leverage countless times. 

“Mister Cuffe, how lovely to see you tonight,” Draco shook hands with the older man who blocked his way at the bottom of the staircase. How the editor-in-chief of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ had skirted any repercussions following his support of the Dark Lord, Draco would never know. “I trust this event will be covered by your paper?” 

“Yes, but I’m here to enjoy myself while my reporter Creevy covers it. Though I’d love to hear how a former Death Eater got so involved with a cause led by one of the wizarding world’s saviors, Mister Malfoy.” The white-haired man eyed him greedily as he asked; it was a look Draco was uniquely familiar with, from how Greyback watched him in his sixth year to how his godfather stared at his mother when he thought no one could see. This was the look of someone who wanted something deeply, selfishly, and dangerously. He made a mental note to talk to Theo and warn him that his mother’s attempts to starve off the press were waning. 

“Who wouldn’t want to help, Mister Cuffe?” Draco asked with a smirk, his tone cold. “It is a worthy cause led by Britain's most brilliant mind. I jumped at the chance to support it, as well as my friend’s sister. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to said friend to make sure things are running smoothly. Enjoy yourself,” said Draco with a polite nod. The  _ Prophet  _ editor-in-chief repeated the action, but watched Draco carefully as he walked away. Interactions like this reminded him of how much he detested the press. As he sauntered towards Theo, in his ridiculous blue robes, Draco searched the crowd for Granger as nonchalantly as he could. Unfortunately, his attempt to warn Theo about the press and his search for the other organizer of the event were interrupted by a herd of potential donors swarming him. He internally sighed in irritation, but fixed the haughty smile to his face just before greeting them. 

After a few hours of mingling, Draco had raised more galleons than he ever had for one of his mother’s charities. “ _ I’ll have to deal with the guilt trip comments later, _ ” he mused mentally as he excused himself from a conversation with the Undersecretary’s wife. Eager for a quiet moment and another drink, he retreated to the bar in the smaller ballroom, keeping his eyes out for Granger, just as he had for the entire night. 

As he walked down the hall, he finally spotted a familiar witch ahead of him, popping out on the balcony for air. “ _Mystery solved_ ,” Draco thought as he leaned against the wall, watching Granger for a moment. The witch was completely transformed from their strange encounter earlier. He found himself noticing that she’d cleaned up well for this event. “ _No doubt Mother hired a team for her debut as a Nott to society._ _I’m sure she hated that_ ,” Draco chuckled to himself as he imagined her rolling her eyes at countless dresses and trying to read as a team worked on that unforgivable mess of curls. The gold evening gown, which he suspected matched the gold flecks in her amber eyes, hugged her hips appealingly and showcased a surprisingly feminine form, making him think again of the blue sundress. Draco couldn’t stop himself as his eyes traced her exposed back, surprised she’d pick anything that would show so much skin. The updo she was sporting showed off her clavicle, which he could catch just a glimpse of from his position inside as she turned to look out into the darkness. Draco debated joining her to brag a bit about his successful fundraising, before deciding a drink was needed first.

At the bar, he wondered if she’d be back to herself again or if she’d ask him more questions about his biggest regrets. She’d never explained why she was asking either, he realized. Draco suddenly considered his mother’s role in their strange encounter earlier. Had Narcissa done something, maneuvering the two of them around on her Wizarding Chessboard? “ _ Likely talked about that day, reminding Granger of one of the many reasons she hates me _ .” Draco’s good mood began to sour as he picked up his drinks. He wasn’t sure if she even liked firewhiskey, but figured if she didn’t drink it, he would. 

“Shit,” he cursed lowly as he walked back towards the hallway balcony, a firewhiskey in each hand. Marcus Flint was on the balcony, inching closer to Hermione and leering at her like a predator sizing up prey. His mood withered even further as he saw the hungry look on Flint’s face. Draco lingered, wondering if he should just go back to the main ballroom of the gallery.  _ “No, I’ll just stay here for a moment. I’m watching out for Theo’s sister because of Flint’s reputation, nothing more, _ ” he told himself as he observed the pair, pouring the drink meant for her into his now half empty glass. He watched her down half the drink Flint handed her and roll her eyes at whatever he said. Draco chuckled at the predictable response; Hermione Granger had no patience for dimwits. 

But then Flint started groping Granger and Draco stopped himself after taking two angry steps forward. “ _ She’d be upset if I did anything, she’s an adult, _ ” he reasoned to himself, rolling his jaw. “ _ Plus it isn’t like she’d accept my help anyway. She can handle this. _ ” She proved him right quickly, smacking Flint with fearsome force. A memory of her slapping him in their third year bubbled to the front of his brain and he laughed, knowing how badly Flint’s chest probably hurt. When Flint didn’t turn tail as he expected Draco’s stomach lurched. As the man advanced again, Draco found himself setting down his drink and storming through the doors, heading directly for Flint. 

“Let go of me,” he heard Hermione hiss as he made it outside. The panic in her voice surprised him, spurring him to act quickly. 

“I think it’s time you went back inside, Flint,” Draco grabbed Flint’s shoulder as he sized the man up. While Flint was older by a few years, Draco had a few inches on him. When they were in school, Flint was notorious for playing dirty. Before had the chance to pull anything, Draco quickly grabbed his wand and pointed it at him. “Go on.”

“How is this your business, Malfoy? Can’t you see we’re busy here?” 

“I can see you’re trying to be. Anyone with eyes can see she isn’t interested. Now let her go,” Draco demanded, pointing his wand into the wizard’s chest. “Don’t make this difficult.” He ripped the man away, practically throwing him against the door. 

“Fine, but be sure to thank me later. You owe me,” the man snapped before turning on his heel and leaving them. 

“Thank you, Mal-Malfuh-Malfoy,” Hermione struggled with his last name and stumbled. His reflexes reacted before he could think and his arms shot out to her waist to steady her. 

“Merlin’s beard, Granger, did you drink the entire bar?” His question was only met with very un-Granger-like giggling. “Well, seems like it’d be best to get you home. Would you like me to escor-” He was cut off by Hermione falling into him, the surprise of it knocking air out of him. “Okay, sounds like I’m taking you back myself then. If you can just walk with me to the floo,” he repositioned her arm around his neck, while he placed his arm around her waist to support her. As they started towards the floo, Blaise walked past with two drinks in his hands.

“Zabini! Could you tell Theo his dear sister had too much to drink?” Zabini’s smug expression disappeared when he looked at Hermione. “You can tell him not to worry, that I’ll take her back to Nott Manor for him. Don’t want to tear him away from Looney,” Draco explained with a knowing smirk.

“She looks pretty far gone,” the Black wizard said with his brows furrowed, ignoring the comment about their friend. If Blaise was concerned, Draco knew he should be more worried. “How much did she have to drink?”

“I’m not her keeper,” Draco huffed. “I didn’t see her earlier, but she was having champagne when I walked up to her stumbling.”

“Do you want me to take her?” Blaise offered, though Draco knew it was only half-genuine. 

“Her is still here,” Hermione hiccuped. “Hi Blaise,” the short witch said dreamily, chin tipped up at Blaise. “You look dashing tonight.” Blaise shot Draco an amused look before winking at Hermione. She tried to wink back, but ended up blinking at him instead. The wizard looked between Draco and Hermione, a small smirk playing on his lips that Draco did not like the look of at all. 

“No, it's fine. I was ready to leave an hour ago,” Draco said gruffly, hoisted Hermione up as her dead weight started to slide down. “And I saw that brunette witch eyeing you all night.” A mischievous twinkle shone in Blaise’s eye at the mention of the woman and Draco knew he was on his own. 

“I’ll tell Theo you’re taking her. You’re a good friend.”

“Anything for your evening activities,” the blonde quipped as Zabini saluted and continued towards the ballroom. 

“You’re very pretty,” Hermione slurred, gazing up at Draco as he practically dragged her towards the floo. 

“While I can’t deny the obvious, I’m shocked you’d feel that way Granger,” Draco drawled, amused by her openness. “Typically firewhiskey goggles make the ugly look handsome, so I’m sure right now I’ve gone from handsome to godlike.” Draco realized after he spoke that he was using that prideful voice he did with women he was interested in. Draco never flirted with Granger before, not like he was used to with other witches anyway. He shook the thought from his head, surprised at himself. 

“Such a pretty man,” she hummed into his shoulder as she took staggering steps. “You grew into your features. Not as pointy anymore.”

“Granger.” Draco warned, wishing he had a sober up potion or anything to get her to stop spouting this un-Granger-like nonsense. He was firmly of the belief that flirting can only be fun if the other person is lucid and can banter back. 

“With your moonlight hair,” he felt her fingers slither into his hair. “You’re not as mean as you pretend to be. You took the curse for us.”

“Merlin, you need to go to bed,” he sighed as he grabbed her hand and put it back on his shoulder forcefully. She pulled away a bit to look at him and he wondered what she was even talking about, but before he could spend too much time deciphering her drunken musings, a whisper distracted him. 

“I can’t wait to go to bed with you,” she murmured silkily into his ear, dropping the remainder of her body weight into him.

  
At that comment, and Granger’s breath hot on his neck, Draco started. While he’d be quick to brush that off as a mistake with anyone else, Granger didn’t make mistakes. Her sultry tone also raised an internal alarm, something he never thought he’d hear from the prim and proper Hermione Granger. He examined her closely, met with a dreamy smile he’d never seen before. She had imbibed far more than he originally thought, Draco decided as he shed his pompous veneer for a kinder one. 

“Shh, Granger, it’s okay. We are almost home. Once we get there I’ll give you a sober up potion,” Draco soothed quietly as he hauled her heavier than expected body along. “Or three. Okay, in you go.” He pushed her through the floo ahead of him, watching her stumble through the green flames. As he stepped through into Nott Manor, he was met immediately by her petite body slamming into his and her arms wrapping around his neck. 

“Woah, wh-” the words died in his mouth when Hermione’s lips collided with his. Heat rose in Draco’s chest as he felt his heart thud quickly. The world around them melted away and he could only focus on how soft her lips were and the intoxicating smell of vanilla surrounding them. He parted his lips, allowing her searching tongue in and kissing her back greedily. Hermione grabbed fistfuls of his dress robes at his chest, shuddering. A soft moan escaped from her mouth and it brought his consciousness back. He broke away from her, grabbing her shoulders and holding her arms length away to inspect her. Her eyes, golden in the firelight, gazed back at him, dark and hungry in a way he’d never seen them before. 

“Granger,” he said carefully, “you’ve had too much to drink. Stop.”  _ Stop _ . It echoed in his mind, a command for himself as well. His head was swirling with desires and questions, but he knew that he had to focus. 

“I - I didn’t have anything to drink tonight. Don’t stop,” she whispered throatily, sliding her fingers along his sculpted forearms. 

“Are you telling me you didn’t drink anything?” he asked sharply, grabbing her wrists to still her. “Granger? Hermione?” She smiled sweetly as he said her name, and he wondered how the temperature in the room had suddenly increased even further. 

“Just a sip of champ-champan. Champagne! Talk about a word that gets stuck in your mouth,” she said as she stumbled back, falling onto the couch behind her and dragging Draco with her. He adjusted and sat next to her, still watching her with concern. “It’s worse than Llanfairpwllgwyngyll.” Draco looked at her puzzled as she spouted off gibberish. “You know, the Welsh village?” The wizard could feel the corners of his mouth twitch at her matter-of-fact tone, proving the know-it-all couldn’t be erased with alcohol. 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked cautiously, debating what to do. She was too far gone for a single sober up potion, if he body didn’t reject it immediately. He reasoned that after he got her the sober up potion, he could floo call the gallery and have someone get Theo. Or perhaps Potter and the Weaslette, so Theo didn’t have his night ruined. Either way, Draco knew he’d likely need help as he shouldn’t be the person taking care of her. 

“I feel fine. I feel great, actually.” The sultry tone was back, unnerving Draco.

“I’m sure you do, but you aren’t acting like yourself. Why don’t we get you a sober up potion? Do you know where they are?” Hermione looked blankly at him, for what he thought might be the first time in his life. “That is a no then. Look, I know you don’t like using house elves, but I am going to call one over and ask for them to ge-” Hermione forcefully pushed a finger to his lips, silencing him. 

“Draco.” He shuddered at his name rolling off her tongue, breathy and full of desire. It was the first time he’d heard her say his first name and he nearly fell out of his seat. “I want you,” she whispered, her other hand reaching for the buttons on his dress robes. 

Draco recoiled from her touch, jumping up and away from the petitie witch advancing on the couch. “ _This was wrong_ ,” Draco thought in a panic. “ _She would never want_ _me. She literally berated me in front of that damned room today to remind me of why she hates me._ ” Turning her words over in his head, he realized what had happened. If she were willing to throw herself at him of all people, she was in no position to turn down anyone. Draco saw red. 

“I’m going to kill that - Hermione. Hermione? Listen to me, I’m going to go get Theo. You just stay here,” he instructed, as he walked backwards towards the floo with both his hands up, motioning for her to stay on the couch. 

Hermione nodded, biting her lip in a way that made his mouth go dry. “I’ll be waiting, Draco.” Draco cursed himself silently as he stepped through the floo for how his heart jumped at her parting words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....any reactions to that development?


	15. A Hell Of An After Party

“You bastard,” Draco roared as he crossed the magically expanded garden behind the gallery heading for Flint. Said bastard was smoking with a crowd of men Draco recognized as older Slytherins, about half of them connected in some regard to Voldemort. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Theo racing in his direction. 

“Here to thank me already, Malfoy?” Flint smirked, flicking his nearly done magical cigar to the ground. “A little quick, but whatever wets your wand.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he spoke, his mocking tone making the group around them chuckle. 

Draco heard a crack as his fist collided with Flint’s nose before he realized he’d punched him. He brought his fist back and caught the side of Flint’s head with his second blow. Before he could land a third punch, Harry sodding Potter was holding him back while Theo was yelling in his face, his lanky body between Draco and the group of angry men surrounding a floored Flint.

“What are you doing, Draco? Are you trying to ruin the whole night?” Theo was yelling, although his voice sounded far away to the blond. “Hermione is going to kill me right after she finishes killing you!”

“He drugged Herm - Granger,” Draco spat with more venom in his voice than he thought capable, struggling against Potter. He kept his eyes on Flint who was now sneering up at Draco, blood spouting from his nose and running down his face. “He fucking drugged her!”

“What?” Potter growled behind him in a tone that rocketed Draco back to a Hogwarts bathroom in their sixth year. 

“He dosed her with some sort of lust potion.” Draco broke from Potter’s grasp, whirling towards him and finding anger overwhelming his green eyes. “She took a single sip from a glass this bastard gave her and she was crawling all over me when I tried to escort her home. I originally thought she’d just had too much to drink.”

“Did you do something to her, Ferret?” Weasley appeared next to Harry, shoving Malfoy hard in the chest. 

“How is it possible that you’re even dumber than you look, Weasel? If I did, why would I be here beating this arsehole up, and not basking in the afterglow with Granger?” Behind Theo, Flint was back on his feet, one of his friends holding him back.

“You’re saying Flint drugged Hermione with a lust potion?” Theo said, watching Draco closely. The blond nodded, rage still bubbling in his chest. “Right then,” Theo sniffed before he turned to punch Flint in the eye. For a moment Draco was shocked, as his oldest friend wasn’t violent. But he didn’t have much time to process because the moment Theo acted, the two groups of mostly inebriated men crashed together, fists flying. 

“She’d hate that we are doing this,” Potter yelled, shoving one of Flint’s friends, accidentally sending him tumbling into Ron. Draco pulled the man off Ron just as he started pummeling the ginger’s head and threw him down on the ground, away from the group. Ron rubbed his head and nodded at Draco, a frown still fixed to his face. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her then,” Theo yelled, rubbing his arm and glaring at a sandy blond bent over in pain. “That really hurt, you shite!” Just as Draco pushed past an older Slytherin to help Theo, Flint jumped in front of the wizard again, looking murderous. 

Draco hit Flint in the face again, before shouting, “Give it to me! Give me the potion!” When Marcus started laughing, Draco pushed him down into the grass and started rummaging through his pockets. Under him, Flint squirmed to get up, pushing him and trying to pull at his hair. Once Draco grabbed a small vial from Flint’s robe pocket, he felt the wizard’s fist connect with his eye. Both his eyes began to water, blurring the fight in front of him.

“Enough,” bellowed a feminine voice, full of fury. The group was pulled apart by an invisible force. Wand in hand, Luna stepped aside for her loud friend to take over. “What is happening here?” Ginny demanded, zeroing in on her boyfriend and brother with a vengeance.

“He hurt Hermione,” Weasley yelled and pointed towards Flint. “Drugged her with a lust potion!” Without a moment of hesitation, Ginny hurled a wordless curse at Flint, who started vomiting slugs immediety. 

“You have 10 seconds to leave the grounds before I hex your balls off,” the redhead threatened Flint’s friends, a look of pure determination on her face. Even Draco gulped at the threat.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Theo said to Ginny as the group turned tail and ran. “Thank you. And thank you, Luna, for breaking that apart. I apologize for putting you in that sort of position. A gentleman should never leave his lady’s side.”

“Are you alright?” Luna asked, touching her hand to his face gingerly. He winced, but took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist tenderly. “Oh dear, it seems as though you four have attracted an astonishing number of wrackspurts. Perhaps I could make that marshmallow root tea I could you about - it can help repel them.” Theo just nodded at her before turning to the rest of them and calling attention to the crowd that had formed around them. 

“Would you all like to come over for a nightcap then? It sounds like I need to check on Hermione, but I think we all need another drink. Marshmallow root tea or firewhiskey, up to you.”

“That sounds good,” Potter accepted and Weasley nodded from behind him. “Er, probably the firewhiskey though, sorry Luna.” 

“Just what do you think Hermione is going to think of this ridiculous testosterone show on her behalf?” Ginny exploded at the boys as the group walked back to the gallery to use the floo. “I imagine she’ll have some choice words for you about toxic masculinity and white knighting. And honestly a fist fight? You are wizards! Have some dignity and duel properly,” Ginny hissed at Ron and Harry. Her husband grimaced and shrugged, while her brother looked at his feet. “And for two Aurors to get involved! Think about what Kingsley will say. Think of what  _ our mother _ will say when she hears about this, Ronald!” Ginny was getting redder as she berated them, while Ron and Harry were looking guiltier with each word. Draco would’ve been enjoying the show had the circumstances been different. Instead his mind was focused only on Hermione, cycling between stewing in the rage he still felt at Flint and slipping back into the memory of their kiss, her voice breathing his name echoing off the far corners of his mind. 

“Why isn’t my guilting working on you, Theo?” Ginny’s shrill voice burst with frustration, dragging Draco away from the memory, kicking and screaming. He watched Theo, who smiled as he squeezed Luna’s hand. 

“Because I’m not guilty of anything. I’ve never had a sister and it’s my understanding you’re supposed to do things like defend their honor. I’d want her to do the same for me,” Theo said with a shrug. “Well, maybe not exactly the same. She’s far smarter than I am, so I suspect that fight wouldn’t have happened.” This received chuckles from everyone except Draco. “And also,” Theo continued, eyeing Draco with purpose, “ _ I _ didn’t start anything. Draco was the one who came out of nowhere, fists out.” Four more pairs of eyes turned to Draco, who scowled and gave a half-hearted shrug, hoping no one would question him further. Thankfully, they reached the floo before anyone said anything else on the subject.

When they stepped through to Nott Manor, Hermione was asleep on the couch in front of the floo. Draco released a sigh of relief, the anxiety that she might be awake and eager to pick up where they left off leaving him. Together Luna and Ginny levitated her upstairs to get her into bed. The boys collapsed into the sitting room chairs and Theo flicked his wand at the whiskey decanter to serve his guests. 

“Gentleman, a toast,” Theo raised his glass of firewhiskey. “To common enemies.”

“To common allies too,” Potter added, looking between Theo and Draco. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“To a mean right hook,” Weasley nodded towards Theo. 

“To a much needed drink,” Draco muttered before he downed his glass in a gulp. 

“If I find out you did anything before you came back for Flint, I’ll kill you, Ferret.” 

“I’d like to see you tr-”

“Ron, I think it is safe to say Hermione is okay,” Potter reassured his friend, cutting Draco off with a meaningful look. “I’m glad you were there to take her home. And that you came back to deal with the situation, even if it was, er, more hands on than expected.”

“She would’ve been fine if he hadn’t drugged her. I watched her smack him before she started getting woozy. She would’ve held her own in our brawl probably.”.

“She is stronger than she looks,” Ron nodded, chuckling at the mental image of Hermione slapping Flint. “But I’m not the only one here who has been on the receiving end of her physical violence,” Ron’s eyes flinted mischievously as he looked at Draco, who scowled in return.

“What? Did Hermione hit you?” Theo asked, sending Harry into full blown laughter. Draco glared at the bespectacled wizard doubled over. 

“Third year. I deserved it, but I’d rather not think about it. Watching tonight’s slap reminded me of it enough. Thank you for bringing that up, Weasel.”

“No problem, Ferret. Too bad she didn’t manage to slap the git out of you back then.” Weasley was smiling as he said it, so Draco just took another sip and didn’t engage him any further. Ginny and Luna reappeared, giggling quietly to each other as they walked into the room. 

“Is she okay?” Theo asked anxiously, looking between the two witches. 

“Hermione is fine,” Luna said softly, placing her hand on Theo’s shoulder to calm him. “I hung extra cork by her bed.”

“Well, she did get a bit of a cheeky handful when I helped her into bed, but, yes, other than that she is okay and sleeping it off,” Ginny chuckled. “Definitely a lust potion at play. I’ve never seen one of those in action.”

“Well now I’m jealous that Luna was the only audience for that,” Blaise quipped just in front of the fireplace, startling the group. 

“That's my sister,” Theo and Weasley groaned at the same time, prompting a fit of giggles from Luna and Ginny, a nose crinkle from Harry, and a smirk from Draco. 

“I assume this means Hermione is fine. We have major damage control to deal with chaps,” the tall wizard poured himself a glass and moved to join them, bringing the bottle with him. “I took care of your mother before I left, Draco. But the rest can wait until the morning.” Draco nodded, but turned towards the girls. 

“Want a nightcap Luna? Weaselette?” Draco asked as Luna deposited herself into Theo’s lap and Ginny plopped down next to Harry. 

“Why not Ferret Face?” Ginny gave a genuine grin as she overturned an empty glass towards the middle of the table. Luna was too busy whispering quiet healing spells over Theo’s hand to answer. 

“What did Mother say?” Draco asked Blaise as he flicked his wand to fill up the glass. 

“Well, obviously I missed the action. But my understanding from the rather sizable crowd that had gathered outside was Flint was slipping potions into women’s drinks. I explained that and your mother looked murderous. I can’t imagine Flint’s family will be thrilled about facing her wrath.”

“She is bloody terrifying,” Ron nodded. “The only scary Malfoy,” he looked at Draco, a grin was where Malfoy expected a sneer to be. He looked as though he were sharing a private joke with him, so Draco decided to take the lifeline.

“Quiet right,” Draco agreed, lifting his glass at Ron. 

The motley crew drank into the early morning, swapping stories from Hogwarts and after the war. They were careful to avoid any mention of the war, each person acutely aware of the tentative nature of this newly forged truce. But Draco was surprised at what a good time they had, especially with Granger’s friends sharing stories about her to Theo. When Theo mentioned her distress about Rita Skeeter possibly breaking their story, the four of them laughed so hard that many of them had tears in their eyes before Potter finally calmed down enough to explain how Hermione had captured the woman in beetle form and kept her in a jar. Draco promptly switched his stance on Hermione’s capability for blackmail. 

As the night wore on, sleep became more seductive. Ron passed out first, laying out on a couch and snoring softly. Ginny and Harry fell asleep next, cuddled together on the leather armchair. Blaise bid them goodnight, eager to return to the brunette witch who told him she’d be waiting for him at her flat. An hour later, Luna fell asleep on Theo’s lap. Draco levitated a mattress from a guest room for her while Theo gently lowered her onto it and tucked her in. 

“This was not how I envisioned my first night with Luna Lovegood,” Theo grinned at Draco as he settled back into his chair. 

“To be fair, I never envisioned us getting absolutely knackered with this group and in formal wear on top of it all. I mean, Scarhead, King of the Weasels, his little sister, and Looney - “

“Watch it,” Theo cut him off, his features pinched at the nasty name. 

“Sorry, mate. What I meant is, we should’ve just organized a fist fight instead of a quidditch match. It would’ve gone a lot smoother.” They both chucked quietly. 

“Draco, are you going to tell me why you were so upset?” Theo probed, growing solemn. “Tonight, I mean.”

“Flint drugged a woman with an unknown lust potion without her knowledge and with ill intent. Do I really need to explain why I was mad?”

“We’ve known each other since nappies, Draco. I’ve never seen you get into a fist fight. Ever. Duels? Malicious and sneaky hexes? Convincing others to get physical on your behalf?” Theo gave him a pointed look, prompting Draco to picture Crabb and Goyle as 11 year olds. “Sure. Your own hands though? Never.”

“It was an insult to you, Theo. You’re my family. To see someone try to take advantage of your sister like that, despicable,” he said as he caught Theo looking at his bruised knuckles whitening as he gripped his glass. 

“Yes, and I suppose it has nothing to do with Hermione?” Theo’s tone was gently accusatory. Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair and deliberating his next words. 

“She kissed me, Theo. When we got back here, she kissed me,” Draco spoke in a whisper, anxiously looking at him. Theo nodded, but kept his face blank. “When she wakes up she will be beside herself. We hate each other,” he added as he looked into the fire. 

Theo swirled the brown liquid in his glass, regarding the pale man. “You know, when we were in school Blaise and I had a bet going about Hermione,” Theo offered calmly. Draco’s gaze snapped up from the fire to meet Theo’s. “Blaise told me that the amount of time you spent tormenting her was practically an obsession. If she had been a pureblood, he was sure you’d have pursued her. I thought he was mad. But you know Blaise. He is more in tune with those sorts of things.” 

Draco said nothing, sipping his drink in silence and waiting nervously for Theo to continue. 

“So in fifth year, he bet me that you’d make advances. Of course, at the time it was said more vulgarly and not about my sister,” Theo said, scrunching nose up at the memory. Draco could only imagine what Blaise had said as a 15 year old, remembering how crass they’d all been. “A few weeks ago, he brought this wager up again. From the look of tonight, I’ll be out 50 galleons shortly.”

“We hate each other, Theo,” Draco muttered, shaking his head. “She hates me,” he added emphatically, thinking of her pushing him for answers before the ball, forcing him to remember that horrible day and the multitude of reasons they weren't friends. “And with good reason. That will never happen.”

The two men stared into the fire, draining their drinks in contemplative silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about Draco's outburst? Or Theo's comment? This was one of my favorite chapters to write so far! Honestly, I’ve had kind of a rough week - if you liked this chapter, a comment would brighten my day.


	16. The Morning After

Early morning light poured through the manor’s windows when Hermione stumbled downstairs, looking for Theo, answers, and a large glass of ice water. While _aguamenti_ produced drinkable water, she knew from limited experience that it wasn’t cold enough to help with a hangover. Hermione’s jaw dropped when she poked her head into the study and found her friends strewn about the floor and couches. Hopping from one sleeping form to the next, her eyes landed on the back of two heads, a familiar brown mess and unmistakable platinum, asleep by the fire. As she sneaked closer, she realized that Malfoy and Theo weren’t asleep, but sitting in silence, watching the fire from the armchairs. 

“What happened? Why is everyone down here?” she asked, her voice strained. The pair of wizards turned to look at her, clearly startled by her voice. Staring at her were two black eyes between them, a busted lip, and one recently broken and poorly repaired nose. “Oh Merlin, your faces! What happened?” she whispered, wondering if she was too late to fix her brother’s botched job. “Theo, let me help you with your nose.”

“I’m so glad you’re feeling like yourself again,” Theo exclaimed, jumping up to envelope her into a hug. She hugged him back, plastering a smile on her face. Hermione had yet to talk to him about their father and the warm physical contact made her uneasy. As much as she wanted to, she still wasn’t sure if she could trust him. Hermione had planned to tackle that issue today, but until she pieced together the night prior, it would have to wait. 

“Of course I’m fine. I just can’t remember how I got home last night,” she said into Theo’s shoulder, slightly muffled. “I can’t really remember much of anything, actually.”

“You can’t remember anything?” Malfoy asked, his voice soft and timid. Hermione broke away from Theo’s embrace to look at him, concerned at the shift away from his usual confidence. The tall wizard looked small in the chair, like he was trying to make himself invisible. He was staring intensely at her, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Think back to last night,” Theo prompted. “What is the last thing you can remember?”

“The last thing I remember I was on the balcony with Marcus Flint…” Hermione took a minute to think, remembering the dark balcony and the man who had cornered her. She shuddered, feeling the ghost of his hand on her lower back. “He tried to kiss me, and I pushed him. And then Dra - Malfoy was there, pulling him away. That’s definitely the last thing I remember; Malfoy looking at me on the balcony.” The concern in his eyes as she lost her balance played in her mind before her memory faded to black as he caught her. She realized she’d never seen him look at her like that, like he was worried about her. It strangely reminded her of how Harry would look at her when she stayed up late revising in their third year, overburdened with an impossible class schedule. 

She heard a sharp exhale and she glanced back at Malfoy. He looked like a caged animal, restless and anxious, sparking another memory. “I had some strange dreams too.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She felt herself flush and she looked down at her feet. “So what happened?” she asked again quickly, focused on Theo and eager to forget her confusing dreams. 

“Well, Draco helped you home,” Theo offered, gesturing to his friend. Hermione swallowed, her mouth still uncomfortably dry, but turned towards him expectantly. 

“It was as you said. I was walking by to get myself a drink and saw you smack Marcus Flint. When he didn’t let you go, I asked him to leave. Then you were stumbling around like a drunk -”

“That explains my head,” Hermione interrupted. “But I don’t remember drinking anything.”

“Why don’t I get you a pain potion for your head?” Theo stood abruptly, concern etched into his face. “Take my seat, I’ll be back in a jiff,” Theo walked out, leaving her alone with Draco Malfoy and four of her passed out friends. 

“I don’t think you drank anything,” Malfoy’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, like he was fighting to get the words out. “I think Flint drugged you.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow and racking her brain for any logical reason someone she didn’t even know would drug her with anything. 

“He was clearly interested in you,” Malfoy said, irritated. “Why else?”

“No, why do you think I was drugged? And why do you suspect Flint?”

“You weren’t acting like yourself. You weren’t just drunk, you were also rather affectionate,” he took a breath, discomfort plain on his face. “When I got you back here we kissed, and - ”

“That wasn’t a dream?” The blood drained from Hermione’s face, her stomach lurching. She was certain the flashes of Draco Malfoy in her bed had been a dream, some subconscious insanity kicked off from yesterday’s comments about courting. 

“No,” Malfoy said slowly, that frantic look returning to his face. But his expression didn’t match the internal panic rising within Hermione. “It wasn’t a dream, I’m so sorry, I never -”

“Oh Circe - even the part when Ginny joined us?!”

He blinked. And blinked again. “I’m sorry, what?”

“When we, uh, when the two of us - when we were upstairs, together,” Hermione paused and saw a look of realization in Malfoy’s face, “and Ginny showed up. That’s when sh-she joined us. Upstairs.” Hermione cursed herself for how small her voice became as she explained. She wondered how red her face was. 

“No, no we were never upstairs,” Malfoy insisted, shaking his head vigorously. “We were never...together, as you put it.” Hermione could hear the anxiety in his voice, the need to clarify that he hadn’t done anything untoward. “I wouldn’t -”

“It’s okay, I believe you.” The wizard slumped back a bit in his seat, releasing the tension he’d been holding. 

“When we all returned, you were already asleep here. Ginny put you to bed, and you apparently copped quite a feel while she was helping you.” A small smirk appeared on his lips. “That could be why you...remember her.”

“Tell me exactly what happened from the balcony to here,” Hermione demanded, using the no-nonsense voice she reserved for Harry and Ron when they were particularly rowdy. Malfoy seemed to realize the gravity of her demand and dropped the smug look immediately. 

“I thought you’d had too much to drink,” he explained solemnly. “When I got you through the floo, you kissed me. When I asked you how much you had to drink and you said you’d only had a single sip from a glass of champagne Flint gave you. I figured out Flint slipped you some sort of lust potion and left immediately to get Theo.”

“Oh. A lust potion,” Hermione said slowly, realizing exactly what Malfoy had been saying. It also explained the invasive dreams, which were bubbling back to the surface of her mind with a vengeance. She shook her head to block it out, purposefully looking into the fire to avoid staring at him for too long. Hermione felt a blush creeping up her neck to her face. 

“Now you’ll have to tell me about what you thought happened,” Malfoy said, drawing her attention back to him. “I’m not Blaise, I won’t ask for all the tawdry details.” He gave her a mischievous grin, which prompted her heart to flip. Hermione quickly dismissed it as a residual effect of the potion.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I had a meaningless dream against my will, under duress,” Hermione said sharply, fixing a sneer on her face like she’d seen him do so many times. “You happened to be featured because you were the last person I talked to.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Granger,” he said, looking irritatingly pleased. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with how irresistible I am.” Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering where the sullen Malfoy went, the one who regarded her with suspicion and treated her to mostly silence. She’d seen flashes of him like this, light and teasing, but only with Blaise and Theo. Just like their conversation before the ball, he was making her curious about what else he was keeping hidden below the surface. Hermione wondered if these shifts meant that perhaps they’d finally broken away from civility and more towards something akin to friendship. She opened her mouth to ask him more about last night, about the kiss, but slammed it back shut when her brother returned to the room.

“Here you go,” Theo handed the potion to Hermione. “What did I miss?”

“Not much. I should go,” Malfoy said as he stood. “I have a potion to analyze. Thanks for the nightcap, Nott. Glad you’re feeling better, Granger.” She watched his broad back retreat into the green flames, trying to focus the hazy memories of the previous nights. 

“So are you okay?” Theo asked gently, resting his hand on her’s. 

“Malfoy told me he brought me back and Ginny put me to bed. Why do you all look like you got mugged?” Theo seemed as though he was fighting a smile, but managed to keep his face neutral. 

“I was smoking outside with Weasley and Potter when we all saw Draco beating the hell out of Flint. When he explained you’d been dosed with some sort of, erm, potion, it turned into a bit of a brawl,” Theo said sheepishly, avoiding her eyes. “Ginny and Luna broke it up, but not before Ginny hexed Flint. Then we all stayed up here, drinking and talking.” 

“ _Malfoy_ fought Flint?” Hermione asked, thinking she misheard Theo. 

“Yeah, _Malfoy_ did,” Theo said, that playful grin back on his face. “He made a scene of it too, very unlike him. He’s become much less impulsive than when we were children.”

“But why?”

“He was angry. We all were. Draco said he was upset that anyone would do that to another person.” Hermione nodded. Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, but Hermione couldn’t imagine Lady Malfoy accepting anything of that nature under her watchful eye. “But especially you,” he added, now smiling widely at her. 

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione asked sharply. Theo smiled, unaffected by her tone. 

“You’re my sister, he told me he felt obligated to do something.” Hermione relaxed into the seat, choosing not to dwell on the initial disappointment she felt from that statement. 

“And Ron and Harry fought too?” She exclaimed, sitting back up at the realization. “Merlin, they are Aurors!”

“Yeah, I have a feeling we are going to be in a bit of trouble today,” Harry’s voice caught her attention behind her. He held his glasses in one hand, the heel of the other rubbing his eye. His hair, which was usually messy, was sticking up in all directions as though he’d been electrified. Behind him Ginny nodded with her eyes half shut and Ron greeted her with a sleepy smile. Hermione shifted to see Luna still peacefully slumbering on her makeshift bed.

“Alright, Mione?” Ron asked quietly as he sat down next to her, his voice gravely with sleep. 

“I suppose so, yes. I’d like to press charges, if I can,” Hermione said, finally allowing herself to feel the anger that had started brewing as soon as Malfoy mentioned the potion. Ron patted her should with one hand and massaged his temple with the other.

“I think we need to go to St Mungo’s for a test to see if they can figure out the potion. I can take you,” Harry offered. “We have to file a report through them if you want to press charges.”

“Actually, Draco took the vial off Flint, he is analyzing it in his lab. I’ll talk to him about getting it to the Aurors office.” Harry and Ron exchanged a look, but said nothing. Hermione worked her bottom lip, wondering if Malfoy took the vial during the fight, and why he’d go to such lengths for someone he didn’t particularly like.

Before Hermione could ask the next question on her lips, they were interrupted by an owl tapping at the window. Theo sighed wearily, but stood with effort. He tossed the brown owl a treat before grabbing the parcel and reading over the contents. Theo scowled, an expression Hermione wasn’t used to seeing on his face. 

“What is it, Nott?” Harry asked. Theo pulled a copy of today’s _Prophet_ from the brown packaging and threw it on the table in front of Hermione. The first thing that caught her eye was the picture on the front page; it was Malfoy punching Flint at the ball. The rage on his usually indifferent face startled her, but the headline distracted her: “Former Death Eater Starts Fight At Charity Ball.” Hermione’s heart sunk, thinking of how Malfoy would feel, how Narcissa would feel, about that horrible title being thrown back in their faces via the front page. 

“That’s not good,” Ginny said simply, snatching the paper up to read the article. “They really emphasized the Death Eater aspect.”

“Blaise thought Draco was still here and wanted to warn him,” Theo said as he read a card from the package. “I’ll need to go to his cottage and give him a head’s up about the article. Clearly Blaise was right about damage control. We can also thank Blaise’s little network for some insight - he said Flint was hoping to secure Hermione’s hand.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione simmered.

“Well, by the old rules -”

“Are you saying this gross attempt to - to assault me is tied to be some backward ancient patriarchal system of rules that punished women for existing?” Theo looked lost at her question, torn between accepting the consequences of answering truthfully and just avoiding the topic all together. 

“If it is, just give us a nod,” Ginny chimed in, her eyes finally fully open. “It will probably save us all a lecture.” Theo nodded. Hermione released a loud groan of frustration.

“So, what would the plan entail exactly? We’d sleep together, without my consent no less, and it would force my hand in accepting some marriage proposal he hasn’t even put forward?” Theo grimaced, looking vaguely guilty. “What? You haven't gotten any proposal requests, have you?”

“No….” Theo drew out, avoiding her eyes. 

“Theo!” Hermione demanded. Ron winced next to her, rubbing his head at the increased volume. 

“Fine, yes,” Theo said, exhaustion evident in the concession. “We’ve been flooded with requests actually.”

“Flooded? From whom?”

“Well...hold on a moment.” Theo walked out of the room, leaving the four of them alone. 

“Flooded,” Ginny echoed, wiggling her eyebrows. “My, my, Lady Nott-Granger, aren’t you popular?”

“Do you think he has any hangover potion?” Ron asked weakly, head in his hands. Ginny patted her brother on the back in empathy before turning back to the article. “Hermione you should read this.”

“Should I really?”

“Well,” Ginny looked up from the paper and Hermione could feel her friend analyzing the fatigue on her face. “Probably not. It suggests that since you found out about your heritage that you’ve abandoned your ideals for the company of former Death Eaters.” 

“What?” Hermione grabbed the paper and began reading, ire growing at each sentence. Ginny had been right; while the scathing article was focused on Draco Malfoy’s previous wrongdoings, it also speculated that Hermione was getting into pureblood politics solely for wealth and a marriage proposal from Draco Malfoy. It called her a blood supremacist without spelling out the actual words. Hermione’s eyes snapped back up to the byline to see Rita Skeeter’s name. She hadn't seen the witch last night and knew she wasn’t on the invitation list, meaning she must have snuck into the event in her animagus form. Hermione rolled her jaw; this morning was turning out to be a frustrating one. 

Theo returned, walking briskly with a large wooden trunk in his arms. He dropped it at Hermione’s feet before wandlessly flicking the top of the chest open and emptying the contents onto the ground. The chest had been full of long slips of parchment, which were now in disarray on the carpet. Ginny and Harry let out a low whistle simultaneously, promoting a soft groan from Ron.

“All of these? All of these are proposals?” Hermione asked, discarding the paper and examining the slips at her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to entertain them?” Theo asked with his eyebrow cocked. 

“No, absolutely not,” Hermione scoffed. 

“Exactly. Why bother you with these details? Each of them were answered with a polite no. I haven’t even been reading them. I set up a quill to automatically answer them.”

“Why bother me? Because this insanity is about me! You stepped in and made the decision for me, without even consulting me. Do you understand how demeaning that is?” Hermione was yelling now, she realized. “And stressful for you, I’m sure. I could have helped,” she added, in a more even tone. Theo shrugged in response. 

“I was doing what I thought you’d want. You’re going to marry for love, not for anything promised in these letters. I’m sorry if I upset you,” Theo said, glaring at the slips of parchment sprawled on the ground. _“Accio_ Flint’s proposal,” he called and a slip of parchment jumped up from the ground into his outstretched hand. “Potter, Weasley, should I turn this over to you? Motive and all that.” Harry took the parchment and looked it over, frowning deeply. 

“Ron, why don’t you take it back to the office and start the process? You can grab a hangover potion on the way. I’ll accompany Hermione and begin the report.” Ron looked at Hermione to make sure she was okay with Harry’s plan.

“Just go, I’ll be fine. And while I appreciate that you care, I am extremely disappointed in how you three handled this,” she said as she sent a withering glare at the three wizards. 

“There she is. I warned them last night that you’d be livid” Ginny said smugly, settling back on the couch to watch the show. “I did a bit of preemptive lecturing for you.”

“I don’t lecture,” Hermione said. She was met with disbelieving looks. “Fine. I won’t lecture about this specifically. You know what you did wrong, and I am thankful that I have people who love me enough to act so carelessly.” She hugged Ron and Ginny before they left. “Harry, ready?” Harry nodded and began walking towards the floo. Hermione followed him, but turned back to Theo. “When I get home we are going to finish this proposal discussion!” She pointed at all the slips of paper on the ground as she spoke. “And have a conversation about you smoking, don’t think I didn’t catch that,” she added. “Terrible for your health. I’ll tell Luna too.” Hermione pointed to the sleeping witch as she spoke and, for the first time, Theo looked guilt-stricken. 

Harry was laughing when they walked into the lobby of St. Mungo’s. “What?” Hermione asked, ignoring the familiar hospital smell of potions and cleaning spells. 

“I am just glad you made him sweat a bit. Ginny had no impact on him last night. Apparently Luna was the key.”

“That is impressive,” Hermione mused, thinking of how like Molly her friend could be when provoked. “Ginny is terrifying.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Harry said, beaming proudly before turning to the mediwitch behind the front desk and giving her his Boy Who Lived Twice smile. Hermione stayed silent as he put on his Auror voice to explain the situation. As the pair walked to a private room, Harry’s smile dropped. “Let’s get this part over with,” he added, growing solemn. “I’ll be with you through the entire process.”

“Harry, I told you I’m okay.” Hermione smiled reassuringly at her best friend. “Nothing even happened. It feels silly to have everyone fuss over me when I am perfectly safe.” 

“Look, you may feel that way now. And you may be fine. But this kind of thing impacts everyone differently,” Harry said seriously, seeming all the Auror Hermione knew he was. “You know that I know how brave you are. You are allowed to be upset about this kind of a violation.” Hermione gave him a tightlipped nod. While Harry had always been a caring friend, his Auror training had honed other skills. He was far more observant than he had been when they were in school. 

“I’m going to talk to the mediwitches to finish checking you in and ensure we get the proper forms for reporting this to the DMLE,” Harry said, leaving her alone in the exam room. 

Hermione sat in silence, looking around the wood-paneled room. Without her friends around or anything to distract her, her mind wandered to the previous evening and the reality of the situation overcame her. Flint’s wolfish leering popped into her brain and she shuttered. Tears began to pool in her eyes, making her feel a bit ridiculous. Like she told Harry, the worst case hadn’t happened. Anger began to boil over, a second wave of emotion even stronger than the first. How many other people had fallen victim to unwanted advances because of a lust potion? Hermione decided she would look into the laws surrounding lust potions after this appointment, determined to help anyone who might go through this. A knock on her door startled her enough to wipe her cheeks. 

“Hermione, my darling girl, are you quite alright?” Narcissa came floating across the room, gathering Hermione up in her arms. She was surprised how much this embrace felt like one of Mrs. Weasley’s hugs, warm and comforting. Neither woman could give her a hug like her mother’s, but this small comfort was exactly what she needed. “Shh, shh, that’s okay,” Narcissa cooed as she stroked Hermione’s hair. Hermione sniffed, trying to hold back her tears in front of Narcissa. 

“You’re still wearing them,” the blonde witch said, touching the earrings in Hermione’s lobes. She’d completely forgotten about them; apparently so had Ginny when she put her to bed last night. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Narccisa,” Hermione said, reaching up to take them out. Narcissa caught her wrist and patted her hand to dismiss the action. 

“No, please keep them. I think they look much better on you and I think you’ll get much more wear out of them.” 

“Are you sure? They aren’t a gift from Mister Malfoy?” Hermione asked, a bit fearfully. If they were from that horrid man, she wanted more than anything to get them away from her. 

“A gift, yes. But not from Lucius. From my late friend, Harper. I think she’d be happy to have someone so brilliant and beautiful put them to good use. Just like her.” Hermione smiled at that. “Now, let’s get to it, shall we?”

“I suppose so,” Hermione replied, uneager to dig into last night’s events again. Thankfully Narcissa, a witch of action, asked no questions. Instead she came forward with information of her own. 

“We took pains to ensure you were not identified as part of this. Should you want to come forward, we will discuss strategy, but I wanted to keep your name out of the papers this morning. Mister Flint has been taken care of,” Narcissa said, a dark look passing over her face. Hermione decided not to push on what that meant, as she knew the witch probably wouldn’t give her a straight answer. 

“I want to come forward,” Hermione said. “Anything I can do to stop people from using these potions against someone’s will. I’ll work with Harry on what that looks like from the Ministry side, but I’ll need your guidance for the publicity side of things.” The older witch nodded, her jaw set in determination. “And Malfoy? Is he okay?” Hermione added, her voice softening. “The press can be horrid.” Narcissa gave a sad smile. 

“I take it you saw the _Prophet_ this morning? We are working on that, don’t you fret, you sweet witch. But I will let him know you were asking after him.” Hermione immediately regretted bringing him up to Narcissa, momentarily forgetting about the wizard’s warning from yesterday morning about the snake plant. Other than their short conversation today, she hadn’t gotten a chance to have a proper chat with him about last night, with all the information she had now. Her stomach turned as it occurred to her that the plant and her kiss likely gave Malfoy the wrong idea. If his mother started telling him she was asking after him, it would only amplify the miscommunication. Hermione hoped Malfoy knew his mother well enough to assume she was meddling. “I’ll let you be. Let’s talk tomorrow.” 

Left alone in silence again, her thoughts turned to Malfoy. Their conversation this morning came first, his grin about her dream prominent in her mind, but quickly their kiss burst to the front of mind. For all the fuzziness of the night, that was the one thing Hermione could remember with perfect clarity. Her mouth went dry as she closed her eyes and let herself drift into the memory. Hermione kept returning to the softness of his lips, the strength of his grip around her, and that spiced cologne smell of his. She wasn’t sure that this was even a real memory or a mixture of dream and their potion-induced kiss. She was certain, however, that this prolonged interest was still the potion, playing a trick on her mind. That didn’t stop her. “ _Draco_ ,” her brain hummed happily as she replayed the maybe memory, maybe dream again. 

“Miss Granger?” A gentle voice pried her eyes back open. A graying witch in lime green robes greeted her with a small smile. “I’m Healer Johnson, I’ll be running diagnostics on you.” Hermione nodded, tucking the kiss into the back of her brain for later and focusing on the woman as she pulled out her wand. 

After Healer Johnson finished the exam, Hermione only had one question. “Is there any way I could be feeling residual effects of the potion?”

“Are you experiencing any side effects now?” Healer Johnson put down her chart and looked at Hermione with concern. “Run of the mill lust potions only last 2 hours. Until we know the specific potion, I can’t guarantee it.”

“Well, I - er, there were some physical reactions to someone this morning.”

“Could you describe them?” Hermione felt her face heat up. 

“I just noticed this person was attractive. Or more attractive than I thought. Er - I felt my heart quicken when he spoke.”

“So rapid heart palpitations? Is that it?” Healer Johnson didn’t sound convinced. 

“I felt warm,” Hermione said, wondering if she should have kept her questions to herself and just researched it independently. “And this person has been on my mind since.”

“Okay,” the Healer scribbled down notes. “Any shortness of breath? Weakness of the knees? Dizziness? Inability to keep your hands to yourself or object to someone else touching you?” 

“No, nothing like that since…” Hermione coughed. “Since last night. No, this morning was different. I just, I had a potion-induced dream last night that featured this person and I didn’t think of him in that context before. Well, I knew he was handsome, objectively, before. But now…” The Healer smiled as she trailed off. Hermione purposefully ignored it. “Now I believe the potion is still impacting me.”

“We will test these samples and send them to the DMLE. I believe Auror Potter mentioned they were handling the case and analyzing a sample of the potion. Lucky you managed to grab that, as I will be able to confirm these symptoms.” The witch gave that same infuriating smile, like she knew something Hermione did not. It was not a look the younger witch was used to. “That said, I don’t think you’re currently experiencing a medical problem as a result of the potion. However, if you find yourself experiencing additional symptoms once you return home, please floo call. I am going to take these samples for testing. I’ll be back in a moment.”

A few moments after the Healer left, Harry came in, looking uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked. “Are you okay? Did they find something wrong?”

“No, no nothing like that,” Harry reassured quickly. “I just - the front desk shared something before I talked to the doctor.” Hermione gestured for him to continue. “There was a woman asking for you, apparently in a panicked voice.”

“Well that isn’t _that_ unusual,” Hermione said, tension dropping from her shoulders. “Probably nosy press.”

“No, this woman was asking, demanding, an update on her _daughter_.” They both stayed quiet, the last word echoing around them. “The front desk couldn’t verify anything, so they came to find me. Has anyone with dark brown hair approached you before?” Hermione shook her head, prompting a deep frown from her best friend. “That was the only description they could give, which would indicate some sort of charm. It is just - with those proposals Theo showed us earlier, it had me wondering if maybe it was someone who thinks of you as their future daughter-in-law. Or it could be...it could be your biological mother.”

“Why would she show up now?” Hermione scoffed, pushing the niggling feeling of hopefulness deeper. She knew better than to hope, especially with the state of her real parents. As if reading her mind, he grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know. But it is a possibility, Hermione. Your biological mother could be alive and in London.” Harry gave her a meaningful look and she wondered if he was thinking of his own mother. She knew if Harry had the chance to talk to his mother, he would do nearly anything for it. Feeling guilty, Hermione decided to change the subject.

“Speaking of mysteries, I need your help.”

“Anything,” Harry answered readily. 

“I need information about my biological father,” Hermione began, and Harry’s face remained strategically blank at the mention of the late Death Eater. She wondered when he started using Auror tactics on his friends, the change only reminding her how long she’d been away. “I need to know more about the circumstances of his death. There are files, records that you may have access to as an Auror that I can’t get.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Harry nodded seriously and Hermione gave him a hug. “Enough of that. Let’s get them back in here so you can go home and rest. How long will they keep a war heroine waiting?” Harry asked her with a cheeky wink. 

Hours later, when her head hit her pillow the image of Draco decking Flint from the front page worked its way back into her head, playing on the insides of her eyelids as she tried to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind words about the last chapter! This was a long one - Hermione had a busy morning - so thanks for sticking with me here :)


	17. The Undeniable Truth

When Draco got home, he immediately set to work on analyzing the potion. Usually his workspace was the one place the rest of the world fully fell away, his brain occupied by the task at hand -  _ usually _ . As he set to work on the diagnostic spell to determine the potion’s ingredients, images of Hermione invaded his mind. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t push her out of his head. Hermione in her gold dress, Hermione staring up at him with hungry eyes, Hermione biting her lip, Hermione admitting she’d dreamt about him, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. It was an endless cycle of Hermione and, surprisingly, Draco didn’t want it to stop. 

He spent hours analyzing the potion. As he chopped and stirred, Draco conceded that he didn’t hate Grang- Hermione anymore; it wasn’t in him to feel anything like that for her. And, if Theo and Blaise’s bet held any merit, maybe it never was. Whatever those feelings, they had been pushed aside for something else; something he knew shouldn’t be there. While he’d changed his tune, Hermione Granger still hated him. Logically he knew that she’d only acted differently last night because she’d been dosed, but it was hard for him to reconcile that with the images playing over and over in his head. 

He tried to focus on the ingredients laid out before him, which the diagnostic spell identified made up the mystery lust potion. They indicated a typical lust potion, though the doubled rose thorns meant to override the drinker’s ability to say no made his temper flare again. The presence of mistletoe berries explained why Hermione’s memory was fuzzy, and continued to support his hypothesis that this dose was specially brewed for Flint. Another ingredient had appeared in the original diagnostic, which confused him. He’d never seen it added to any potion of this sort before. He dithered, holding the feather above the bubbling cauldron, wondering if he’d made a mistake in his original assessment. “ _ I want you _ ,” Hermione’s voice whispered from the corner of his mind and Draco let it float down from his hand, ignoring the hope growing deep within. After three counterclock stirs, he tested his potion against the sample from the vial. 

They matched.

He slumped back into his work chair, finally letting the exhaustion of the night before catch up to him. Draco’s mind was grappling with the unexpected ingredient when a crack of apparition startled him. 

“Master is wanti-” Tippy stopped short, her jaw hanging open at the sight of him. The little elf ran over to him, hopping onto the table and fussing as he tried to gently bat her imposing hands away. “Is you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said as he swatted her tiny hand. “Just a minor scuffle last night.”

“That is explaining Mistress,” Tippy nodded, studying the poorly healed black eye. “She was going in a hurry this morning.” 

“Going where?” Draco asked, now worried she’d be bothering Hermione, when the witch ought to be resting. He kicked himself for not noticing his mother’s absence earlier, when she didn’t appear to reprimand him both for his behavior last night and his audacity to skip breakfast. 

The elf didn’t respond, tsking over his bruised knuckles. “Tippy, did she say where she was going? Tippy!” His patience had worn thin after a night without sleep and his tone came out harsher than he intended. The elf eyed him for a moment. 

“Mistress is going on a private errand,” the elf responded in a cold tone. “She is not telling Tippy where.” 

Draco sighed, but decided not to interfere with whatever trouble his mother was getting into now. If it was to see Hermione, he’d have to smooth over whatever trouble she caused later. He sighed, attempting to relax, focusing on the noise of the foaming cauldron over the flame. The noise pulled him back to late night tutoring sessions with his godfather at Hogwarts. Draco realized he had a resource he hadn’t used yet, one he could confirm the potion ingredients with before sending his findings to Hermione and the DMLE. 

“You’re the best person I know at healing,” Draco started, earning a smile from the miffed elf, “could you help heal me up? I think my specialty bruise paste is in the Manor.” He stood, grabbing the list of ingredients he scrawled down earlier. “Do you mind grabbing it? I have to go there quickly myself, so I can meet you in the kitchens.”

He apperated into the manor and snuck down the upstairs corridor, stopping in front of a familiar face. 

“Severus,” Draco greeted the dark-haired man, who was reading. The portrait let his book drop and sneered at him, eyeing his hastily healed injuries.

“Draco. I thought you were pursuing healing.” Snape smirked, his portrait lighter without the many burdens the man carried in life. “If you’re an advertisement for your potions, I doubt anyone will buy them.”

“To be fair, I didn’t do this,” Draco replied, gesturing at himself. He almost regretted coming to talk to the portrait; Draco missed his godfather, the sullen man that he was. When his mother hung the portrait in the house, Draco had originally been relieved. He thought it would be helpful to have a renowned Potions Master accessible while working on his potions line. However, the interactions left him wanting more; the portrait never fully captured the multi-faceted personality of the deceased. “It was a hasty healing job last night. I was in an altercation with another wizard who tried to take advantage of an unwilling witch.”

“Honorable,” Snape’s portrait drew the word out.

“I’m hoping for your help.” He held up the vial. “The witch was dosed with this potion, which I’ve been analyzing. It’s a lust potion, modified to be stronger than normal and give the consumer a hazy memory of the events. However, there is an extra ingredient that doesn’t make sense.” The likeness gestured for him to continue. “There were Jobberknoll feathers in the potion. It was just a small amount of crushed feathers, but they were still present.”

“You want to know why the primary ingredient in truth serum was in a lust potion?” There was a hint of something in the portrait’s voice as he asked, like he already knew the answer. Snape shifted back in his seat, 

“It just doesn’t make sense. I spoke with her while she was under the influence - she was speaking nonsense.” 

“Such as?” he asked drily. Draco hesitated, finding an odd attachment to Hermione’s confessions from the night before. While he knew it was irrational, he didn’t want to share her words with anyone, even a portrait, afraid that repeating them would cause them to vanish from his brain. 

“She complimented me, yet I know she doesn’t care for me.”

“I see,” Snape drawled, watching him with a hard expression. “What else was in this mystery potion?” Draco unfolded the list and held it up for the portrait to read. His eyes quickly scanned back and forth before coming to an abrupt stop on one line. Snape slowly looked back up at Draco. 

“There was crushed pearl in the potion?” Snape asked, bored and impatient. Draco nodded, his brows furrowed as he thought through what Snape was implying. “Think about the interaction between those ingredients.”

“Crushed pearl is used in love potions - and lust potions,” Draco recited, feeling as though he were back in school for a moment. “It is used to bring out feelings of attraction.” He paused, tripping over the only logical conclusion. “But when used with Jobberknoll feathers, that potion would bring...existing feelings of attraction to the surface.”

“Not nonsense then. Did you really need to consult me on something that would’ve been covered in OWLs?” As Snape spoke, Draco looked down at his feet, embarrassed. “Off with you now,” Snape dismissed him, picking his book back up. “Please do try to come back with a more interesting potions challenge next.”

Draco walked towards the kitchens to find Tippy. Or rather, his body walked while his mind raced. Snape confirmed what Draco wouldn’t let himself hope for earlier. There was a possibility that everything Hermione said to him last night was true. 

After letting Tippy heal the remaining bruises, Draco apperated back to his cottage and paced the floor. As he walked, his eyes landed on the snake plant, sitting on the floor in the corner. The memory of her touching him, giving him the plant, popped into his mind and the desire to go to Nott Manor and talk to Hermione was overwhelming. He opened the floo, trying to figure out what he’d say to her, but, as he stood in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t make his feet move.

“ _ She’s probably sleeping _ ,” he reasoned with himself. “ _ She had a hard night, does she really need attention from another wizard at this moment? _ ”

Draco groaned, recognizing his own cowardice through the excuses his mind suggested. He turned back to his desk and wrote a letter to Potter detailing the results. While penning it, his mind swirled; he kept working through each memory of Hermione in the past few months under the lens of a truth powder. Just as he tied the parchment, as well as the two vials, to his owl’s leg, the roar of the floo sounded. 

“Draco!” Theo greeted as he stepped through the green flames. His tone was cheerful, but his face was tight.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, heart dropping. “Is Hermione okay?” 

Theo stopped, and looked at him in surprise for a moment. “Well after you left this morning she went to St Mungo’s wi-”

“She’s at the hospital?” Draco asked as he walked past Theo, towards the floo. “The potion shouldn’t have any adverse effects. I can give them the potion ingredients and we can -”

“Calm down,” Theo said sharply, grabbing his shoulder and stopping him. “She’s fine. They are starting a file so she can press charges.” 

Draco released tension in his shoulders he didn’t know he was holding. 

“I came over to warn you about this,” Theo said as he waved a newspaper in Draco’s face. “I tried to get through earlier, but you had your floo closed. Then my owl was turned away.”

“I was working,” Draco muttered as he took the paper out of his hands. He unfurled the  _ Prophet _ to see a photo of him punching Flint. He would’ve laughed, if he hadn’t spotted those dreadful words staring back at him: Death Eater. It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out as he reread the bold headline again and again. 

“Draco -” Theo started, but Draco held up his hand to cut him off, eyes trained on the paper. The article ran through the greatest hit list of his worst decisions, from “youngest known Death Eater,” to “tried to kill Albus Dumbledore.” However, what he was most surprised by was the accusation that Hermione was after a marriage proposal from him, rather than the other way around. Anyone with good sense would know that he would be the only one to benefit from a match like that, tying himself to a member of the Golden Trio. Something about the article rubbed him the wrong way, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. 

“Look, I know this isn’t great, but between your mother and Blaise -”

“I know,” Draco responded gruffly, not taking his eyes off the paper, now focused back on the headline. “Death Eater” was a title no one had called him after his trial, and while he knew people thought it privately, he didn’t expect something so blatant, especially from Rita Skeeter, a connection of his mother’s. Draco folded the paper up and vanished it. “I just, I haven’t gotten any sleep because I was working on the potion. I need to take a nap so I can deal with this when I have my wits about me.”

“Right, right…” Theo trailed off, Just owl me when you wake up, okay?” The concern in Theo’s voice is what pried Draco’s eyes from the paper. Draco gave a nod and left Theo to the floo. 

Climbing the stairs felt like a physical feat Draco had never faced before. When he finally made it to his bedroom, he fell into his bed and wished for sleep. 

“ _ You’re very pretty _ ,” Hermione’s voice echoed in his brain.

“ _ Death Eater, _ ” his mind responded with a venom he hadn’t heard since the war. 

“ _ You’re not as mean as you pretend to be. _ ”

“ _ Death Eater. _ ”

“ _ I can’t wait to go to bed with you _ ,” he remembered her saying in that tone that made him want to melt. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he concentrated on her voice. 

“ _ Death Eater. _ ”

“ _ Don’t stop, _ ” she’d said when he’d pulled away, her soft hands roaming. “ _ I want you. _ ”

“ _ Death Eater. _ ”

“ _ I’ll be waiting, Draco _ ,” he heard again, his heart doing that same flip it had last night.

Despite his exhaustion, Draco stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until the sun finally set. 

The next two days continued in a similar fashion; he worked to push her out of his mind, but she plagued him; his memories of Hermione became like a ghost tormenting him in a welcome haunting. Through sleep, through meals, even through potion making, he could not tear her from his mind. 

It wasn’t until the third time he visited Nott Manor in two days that he asked Theo where his sister was. He’d originally decided that he’d act normal, and run into her casually. The only problem was, the witch he couldn’t stop thinking about was nowhere to be found. 

“Hermione is at Weasley’s house I think,” Theo shrugged. At the mention of her name, Draco felt butterflies and mentally cursed himself. “Could be at Potter’s though,” he said, looking up at Draco. 

“Has she been staying there?”

“No.” Theo looked confused for a moment, before a look of realization passed over his face. “No, she’s just been leaving whenever she knows you’ll be coming over.” 

Draco felt sick, then foolish; he must have been wrong about the Jobberknoll feathers. The realization, though a disappointment, gave him some relief, since he knew she wouldn’t be interested in him.

Theo gave him a sympathetic grimace. “I think she is embarrassed,” Theo said softly. “Not about you, you know. Just the whole thing. We haven’t talked much about it, obviously.”

Draco nodded, not looking at Theo. He swallowed, his throat dry. “Of course, I understand.” 

Theo stared at him, his eyes furrowed. Draco was starting to see the family resemblance. 

“I think I better go home,” Draco said as he stood abruptly. “Mother wanted to have dinner tonight.”

Before Theo could say anything, Draco slipped out the door and walked past the library. Peeking in, just to make sure she wasn’t in there, he noticed the journals they’d talked about weeks ago laid out and open. Hermione had clearly been working here. He looked down the hallway to make sure Theo wasn’t following him and slipped in to write her a note. 

As he picked up her muggle pen, Draco heard the distant roar of the floo from downstairs. “Hermione,” he breathed as he stared at the door. He weighed his options, deciding he would delay himself just long enough to run into her on his way out. He leaned against the table, before a parchment caught his eyes. It was covered in runes. 

Curious, Draco picked it up, pursing his lips as he tried to translate. A few symbols in, he found an error. He scanned the rest of the parchment, finding altered runes scattered throughout the letter. As Draco looked closer, he recognized the runes. He’d seen them before, in countless letters at Malfoy Manor. 

“Why do you have a letter written in Father’s runes?” Draco whispered, glancing back at the door. “And what does it say?” He returned to the letter and tried to start translating what he knew. 

He heard her footsteps approaching and faced the door, anxious she’d catch him snooping. 

“Theo?” Hermione’s voice called and his heart did that same damned flip. Draco wished it was his name she was calling now. “Theo!” Her voice became shrill and irritated as she called out again, making retract his previous thought. He decided to wait until she walked past to slip out, so he could catch her in a better mood for their talk. 

“I need to speak to you,” Hermione’s voice, stern and instructive, rang out. It reminded Draco of her prefect voice, which he mocked mercilessly in school. 

“I need to talk to you too,” Theo said, his voice muffled just outside of the library. “About Draco.” Draco’s heart quickened as he mentally cursed Theo. He crept across the room and pressed himself against the door, straining to listen. 

“That can wait,” Hermione said, her voice fading. “This is more important.” Realizing they were going to Theo’s office, Draco knew he had a choice: to leave with his dignity intact or to eavesdrop. 

As he positioned himself outside the study, Draco wondered if he’d lost his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on the multiple discoveries? Or Draco's choice? As always reactions/conspiracy theories appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I own none of these characters, etc.


End file.
